


Danger's Eyes and Lover's Mouth

by INerdMuch



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Abuse, Andrew Lloyd Webber... You know your crimes., Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cookies, Courtroom Drama, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gay Panic, Healing, How Do I Tag, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, No Smut, Past Abuse, Please Don't Kill Me, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, TS Elliot what have I done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 55,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22256749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INerdMuch/pseuds/INerdMuch
Summary: He... Didn't know what this was.He'd come to the abandoned theatre, thinking; 'Oh an average Tuesday alone with my music'. An escape from Macavity.Now he's caught in a gang war, struck with a little love, and still hiding his magical powers. He has one question: what the hell is a Jellicle?
Relationships: Bombalurina/Demeter (Cats), Mr. Mistoffelees & Rum Tum Tugger, Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger, Plato/Victoria (Cats)
Comments: 412
Kudos: 256





	1. Chapter One: Dance Like You Aren't Scared

**Author's Note:**

> So. First chapter. Each update will be on a Saturday. I have 8 chapters and over 16k words written. And when I say slow burn, I mean it this time.

Quaxo Mistoffelees sighed heavily into his morning porridge. He did not like porridge. However, Macavity told him to eat what he was given, and be grateful, so he did. He didn't want to complain, after all, as it would be rude. Macavity had helped him and his sister get into a prestigious academic university, and even provided them with the funds for student housing. Well, he provided Victoria with the funds; Misto was told, ever so graciously, that he may live with Macavity. He went along with it because... Well, because Macavity said he loved him.

It didn't seem to matter that Misto was only just eighteen, while he was nearly forty two. He said that the age gap proved his love because he hadn't ever fallen before meeting him. He said that they were soul mates, and that meant they did nice things for each other. He said they were soul mates because they both had magic. He said that Misto didn't need to dance, because he had brains, and brains mattered in real life. He said that Victoria could come and go as she pleased. He said that Misto could go, but should always come back, or he'd break his heart. He said a lot of things. Sometimes things that hurt Misto. 

Otherwise, Misto was fine. He was just fine, because he was in love and living with his... Boyfriend. He was getting the top grades at a STEM institute in Mathematics and Engineering. He was enjoying every moment. His magic was constantly under watch from Macavity, and he was getting better everyday. 

Except he wasn't happy. Love wasn't like how they described it in books and plays and on television. Getting top grades often meant staying home and revising and practicing. Enjoying every moment definitely felt worse than it had when he was younger. It was strange, but the world seemed so very grey and dark, even in the approach of summer. His magic always felt wrong when he did what Macavity told him to, unlike whan he did things his way. 

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he looked down and noted that he'd finished his porridge. He washed his bowl in the sink, setting it on the drying rack, and looked over at the cluttered counter. He began to wash the dirty dishes in his surrounding area, and spread out, slowly but surely washing the kitchen piece by piece. At some point he took out a broom and went to the front porch. He plugged in his headphones, and switched on his Calm playlist. The broomsweeps were impossible to hear through his music, and he began to sway as the dust lifted to reveal reddish wooden planks. He smiled at the progress, and started to sweep the little path in the front lawn.

Macavity did not live in the richer parts of town, though he had the money to afford it. He scowled and said something about 'bad blood', before claiming that he was being ungrateful and selfish, and that he didn't love him. Misto had to show that he really did love him, and that night, they'd...

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Misto kept sweeping the floor. It was a relatively sunny day, but he wasn't sweating. Soon enough, he'd banished the loose dirt from the floor. He frowned and looked back at the porch. He remembered how his mother used to wash the floors with a bucket of soapy water, and that she always said his father didn't have to help (despite him offering repeatedly) because she loved him. He loved Macavity. He should wash the floor.

An hour later, he unwrapped the apron from his waist and put it under his aching knees. The kitchen floors shone, and the porch steamed as the water evaporated. It looked much better, and he hoped that it would be appreciated. Surely, as it was one of the few days he had away from University. He had Fridays, Saturdays and Tuesdays off, and today was Tuesday. Speaking of which, Victoria would be on her way over in about an hour. He should prepare lunch.

He stared at the clock as the minutes ticked by and he cut up carrots for the salad. Only a few more minutes, and she'd be here. A few moments, and Macavity would be with them. For some reason, it filled him with discomfort. It filled him with discomfort a lot, actually. He ignored it in favour of telling himself he was in love. Definitely in love.

The familiar clump of Macavity's boots filled the hallway. Victoria was talking beside him, but not in the way she talked at school. She was soft spoken, and delicate. In school, she challenged him to competitions on who could scream loudest with a mouth filled with hotsauce. The winner had somehow been the teacher that told them to be quieter in the lunch hall.

She entered the kitchen first, and noticed the bruises on his knees, and the others on his arms. He stuck his tongue out at her, and placed the finished bowl of salad on the table. Then in came Macavity. He was grabbed at the arm and on the front of his shirt for a 'kiss'. Macavity didn't like when he moved or kissed back, so he kept very still.

"Hello, Love," purred the older man. He released him, and sat at the table, ready to eat. Victoria smiled weakly, and coughed.

"I'm just going to talk to my brother in private, for a few moments," she said. Macavity didn't respond, but narrowed his eyes. They stepped outside into the sunshine, and she turned to face him with rage in her eyes. "He's hurt you. Again."

"Viccy, it's fine, I really annoyed him and he didn't mean it-" Misto tried to protest. She struck him with the angriest gaze he'd seen in a while. He shut his mouth, knowing now was not the time. But she'd come around eventually.

"I think you need to take a break from him, from school, and take some you time," she said, pulling him in closer. "You will take this break. There's an abandoned theatre up around the richer area, where you can dance again. No one ever goes in there, and you should be fine to just let loose. Do you understand?"

"I'm not meant to dance, I'm too old," he said weakly. "And really, I wouldn't be hurt if I wasn't the screw-up here. Trust me. Anyway, I washed the floors, which is why my knees look so bad. Nothing else, I swear."

Victoria fixed him a strong look, and slipped the address into his pocket. They went back in to eat lunch and listen to Macavity rave on about his latest endeavour. It wasn't all that fun, but he knew he had to listen, because when you love someone, you do as they say.

-*-*-

It became a little weekly routine for him. As summer began to swarm him with exams and assignments, he found himself more and more desperate for his sessions at the theatre. The first time he'd gone, he'd nearly been caught by an old man who was walking around the empty seats, muttering about cleaning them 'before the ball'. 

He'd been there, doing his finishing stretches, and he'd heard the shuffling steps in the far darkness. He'd left the stage silently, and watched as a man who's hands shook picked up a Broom and began sweeping the stage. He'd had to change in a public toilet so Macavity didn't see his dancing gear.

The second time he went it was much later. It was around six pm, and the place was empty. He'd put on his music, and stretched as he tried to remember choreo from performances before... Well, from before. He rolled his back and stepped out, restarting the song. Winter by Vivaldi was the perfect thing to re-familiarise himself with his turns. He'd been so good before.

He knew his jumps would need work, and he was thrown off by how much everything hurt. It hadn't hurt this bad before, but he supposed not practicing for a year did that to a person. He ignored the tenseness in his arms as he focused on his foot movements, getting into the swing of spotting again. It took Misto a few turns, but then he was pirouetting as beautifully as before. Thoroughly warmed up, he searched his playlist for a song to do an improvisation to.

He was there for three hours. Sometimes, while dancing, he'd shoot out little sparks from his fingertips and watch them glitter in the semishadow of the theatre. 

When he'd gotten home, he'd been yelled at by a furious Macavity, who accused him of cheating. He'd had to prove his love again, but it was worth it, he privately knew. Every painful tug and scratch was worth the freedom granted by a grand jeté.

So he was free, every Tuesday, and felt true elation each night. He took to dancing blindfolded to sharpen his balance, taking videos with his phone to see the end project. He twisted through the air, he stretched out his feet, he became so flexible his sister could be jealous. He improved steadily, and his reprieve was undisturbed by anyone. He felt so wonderfully exhausted after each session that he once wryly thought of it as his own little drug, addictive. His magic agreed strongly. Well it had been, for twelve weeks, until tonight.

It started out as usual. He noted that the whole place seemed cleaner, and tried not to disturb anything that would send dirt flying. He placed his phone on the floor, and connected it to the Bluetooth speaker that had been given to him for his nineteenth birthday by Victoria. Macavity forgot, but it was fine. He pressed play, and as the first few notes began to play, he ran to the centre and tied his blindfold. It was some Broadway musical song, "Waving through a Window" from Dear Evan Hanson, if he was correct.

He began to dance. Slowly, he started to spin and jump, growing more and more exuberant. He'd never realised how much the lyrics hit him. He extended his leg up and out, and jumped into a forward roll. Once on the floor, he began to swing his legs from the back into a seating position, rolling until his hips left the floor, and he stood on one leg, arabesque in what he knew was perfect form. He felt something crumple as the chorus hit. He ripped away the blindfold, and noted he was facing the back. Jumping up into a sissone, he kept running back to the centre of the stage. He'd memorised where he was enough to dance blindfolded. He was ecstatic, despite the sad tone of the song, and rolled over and up, and threw himself into as many turns as he could do. 

As he spun, he realised that the theatre had a few different colours from when he started. He caught a glimpse of a face and tripped in his surprise. The world spun for a few moments until he connected with the ground. His head knocked the ground sharply, and he gasped as his ankle twisted. He sat up quickly, and stared up in fear at the now not so empty theatre.

The old man from before was there, smiling like he had seen him dance before. There was an older woman next to him, who was holding his arm and clapping. Several people were clapping. He couldnt feel his hands, and he knew he was going to cry. How childish he must seem, to be clapped by people in sympathy. He was so pathetic. He felt tears spring to his eyes, and picked up his phone and bag in a hurry. He left his speaker, to scared to stop for it as he burst into a sprint, running into the wings and out backstage. He heard a few people call out to him, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop now.

He ran and ran and ran, until he came to a park. He collapsed on a bench, and threw his stuff on the ground next to him. Burying his face in his hands he began to really wail. The park was long empty. He cried until he felt drained, and then he started to scratch at his bare arms. He couldn't go back there again. He pulled on his normal clothes, and took his dance clothes off underneath them using clothing tricks he and Victoria had done when they were young for fun. He felt tempted to just use his magic to burn them like Macavity had taught him. 

The moonlight was soft on the swings and the gravel pathways. He went over to the swigs and dejectedly kicked his legs. He began to feebly sway, and the light creak of the chains was almost mocking him. Childish, childish, childish. 

He sat there for a while. It was far later when he forced himself to stand, dance clothes in hand. He dragged the clothes over to a litter bin and threw them in, and scowled at them with watering eyes. He sniffed, and resolved to fetch the speaker tomorrow morning. He'd apologise for using the theatre without permission. He would not return. Internally settling the matter, he turned to leave, and walked into a broad chest. He looked up and wiped his eyes.

"Sorry, sir, I need to get home," muttered Misto, walking past him. The man grabbed him by the shirt and he immediately went limp. "Sir, I really must go-"

"What are you doing in Pollicle territory, rat?" the man growled. "Who are you affiliated with?" He shook him, and jostled his teeth in his skull with the force of it. 

"I'm sorry, what's a pollicle?" Misto asked, terrified. "I don't understand!"

"Oh, a civilian," the man remarked, putting him down gingerly. "Right, sorry. Thought you were a Jellicle, or worse, a Peke. Well, best head home. Most gangs come out after nine, so I thought you may be spyin'. Have a nice evening and hurry off."

He lumbered off, leaving Misto to start trundling home. He had school tomorrow, and Macavity would not like that he was out so late. Misto did not notice a figure creep out of the dark and take his dance outfit from the bin. He didn't notice as the figure disappeared into the bushes, fiery malevolence and anger rolling off it in waves. He went home, sniffing, and once there headed straight to bed after showering. He curled up and feel into a deep sleep, aided by his magic. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Saturday. So heremst. A warning, Maccy gets rather physical with our boy in this chapter, so please be careful of triggers
> 
> It's been Brough to my attention, thankfully, that I need to be more careful with triggers. I understand completely, so here are the main warnings;  
> Violence  
> Beatings  
> Strong language  
> Degrading
> 
> Please be careful, it starts at the paragraph that starts "What is this?" and ends at 'Misto left with a small suitcase'

Morning hit him like a freight train. Last night flooded into his mind and he felt even worse. He had classes, but they only started at twelve today, so he had time to fetch his speaker and apologise. He wrote up an apology letter, in case he could just leave it on a table, and gathered his school things. He put on a pair of jeans, his black denim jacket and a white shirt. The cotton of the long sleeves was a comfort to his hidden bruises, and his ankle still ached from the fall yesterday. Running on it probably hadn't helped.

He ate his bland porridge and left, putting a note on the fridge for Macavity. He stared at the grey clouded skies and thankfully remembered to brink an anorak in his bag. He began his trudge up to the theatre, looking up at the houses growing ever larger and better maintained. It always awed him, the wealth some people had. The columns and stairs were all so beautiful he almost wanted to stop to admire the view. He pushed forward, however, resolutely not looking up. 

Bitterly, he noted that he was already at the back of the theatre, and carefully he pushed open the door. He was immediately hit by the chatter from the front of the theatre. His magic stirred uncomfortably and he prepared to run. 

So he'd have to go out to reach his speaker, unless someone had moved it. He stepped into the wings, and spotted it on a table with a few other props. He carefully replaced it with his apology letter, thankful that he wouldn't have to go out and do it publicly. As he picked his way out, his sore ankle whacked a metal pipe on the floor. It rand out a pure note, and rolled into the stage as he silently clutched at his ankle and tried not to scream. Oh god, oh why, could he not catch a break? He almost used his magic to numb the pain so he could get out, but then... 

The room went quiet, and a tentative voice called out.

"Rumpleteazer? Is that you dear?"

"I'm next to you, Jellylorum," replied another voice, slightly exasperated.

"Oh, it might be that young dancer from last night, the one who left his speaker thingie!" an excited voice suggested, and Misto knew he had to leave, now. He began to hop quietly towards the exit of the wings and to the back door of the theatre. He didn't make it very far when he heard a voice behind him pick up his letter. He glanced back, eyes wide, as a sweet older lady read the title he'd left on the envelope.

"'An apology, Curtesy of Quaxo Mistoffelees. Dear me, you really were spooked, weren't you my love?" She said, scanning over the letter. She folded it neatly and put it into her pocket. Holding out an arm, she helped him stand up and tried leading him out onto the stage. "No need to apologise, my dear, the theatre is open to everyone now that it's abandoned- are you alright, dear?"

Misto let go of her arm and shook his head. He began quickly hobbling away. He could stand without assistance, and he really didn't want to face all those people who'd seen him so something so childish as dance in public. He just needed to leave and go to university and forget this silly ordeal. He couldn't just-

"Oh dear. Is this him?" Another older lady had appeared backstage. "Poor thing looks terrified. Jennyanydots, have you even introduced yourself? Hello, my name is Jellylorum. What's yours?"

"My, uh, name is Q-Quaxo." Stumbling over his words and the cluttered floor, he turned to leave. He got about five steps before he was grabbed on each arm by an elderly woman. He tried to not cry out as they clutched at bruises, but he did whimper a little. They let him go immediately, but they were already on the stage and walking over to a group of three sitting around the left of the theatre, a small clump of younger people. Two ladies, one man. Other than that, the theatre was seemingly empty. He couldn't leave now. 

"Hi, dancer boy," grinned the girl who'd spoken before. Rumpleteazer, he had to guess. She had a lovely cockney accent, all rough and sweet at once. "Heard all about your little show last night. Way Tugger was going on about it made it seem as if a god had graced his presence. Kinda sore I missed it, though."

"Yeah, he hasn't stopped talking about it," grinned the boy. They looked very similar, and with a jolt he realised they were twins. "I'm Mungojerrie, by the way, and this is Bombalurina. Nice t' meet ya."

Bombalurina regarded him cooly, raising an eyebrow when he flickered his gaze to the floor.

"I just came to say sorry for using the uh, the theatre when I wasn't supposed to," Misto said, wringing his wrists. His voice got quieter as he continued. "It was childish of me to sneak in and dance without checking if this place was properly abandoned, and um, sorry that you had to watch me dance. I promise I won't come back. So, I um, I apologise."

The group of five watching him were silent. Jennyanydots opened his letter and scanned through it. Putting it away again, she sighed, and bustled over to him and patted his arm. Right on a bruise. He managed to stifle a gasp.

"I will say it again, Quaxo dear, you need not apologise. You clearly didn't know, and that is fine," a soft look came over her face. "Gus said he was so happy that his stage was used so beautifully again."

"Your name is familiar," remarked Bombalurina out of nowhere. "I swear Victoria said she had a brother called Quaxo Mistoffelees. What's your last name?"

Things started to fall into place, and Misto sighed heavily. This was his sister's way of getting him 'help'. She always said he needed to make friends with other people than her, and here's her roundabout way of doing so.

"Of course she did. Of course." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Well, don't you worry. You'll never have to see me again, and I've given up dancing. Goodbye." Turning around, he began to walk out with a slight limp. Why did a twisted ankle hurt so much? Ignoring it, he left the theatre out of the back entrance and stalked to school.

-*-*-

He stared at the text message from Victoria. She was dropping out of his university, and going to a place that had offered her a scholarship for Ballet and Modern Jazz. She told him to audition for ballet and tap, to get out of Macavity's house. She told him to feel alive with her. Apparently she was living with her friend 'Demeter'. She sent him a happy picture of the two of them doing each other's nails, making strange faces with a weird filter over them to make them look like cats. She told him to come get his nails done, and sent him an address. 

He told her that he was still in love and shut his phone off. They'd had a little fight. He had confronted her, and she'd left him. She talked to him in school, but didn't come home. She stayed at her friends house, and told Macavity thank you, but no. She didn't want to live on his money. She was striking out her own path. It made him feel... Jealous, that she could just leave. Macavity hadn't been happy, and he'd had to prove that he wouldn't leave nearly every night. He only left the house to go to university or tend to the dead garden outside the back door. It had been two weeks since he'd stopped going to the theatre and it was hurting. His body buzzed to dance, but he forced the urge down. He forced himself to accept that this was his life. He forced himself to do the things Macavity told him to.

And then everything got worse.

"Anything to tell me, pet?" Cooed Macavity one night at dinner. Misto frowned and thought about his day.

"I washed your car," he stated meekly, wondering if he should have left it. He had actually felt happy, blasting some cutesy songs he'd saved on his phone that reminded him of his sister. Maybe he was a very that he'd been so noisy? Of course he was, Misto was such a screw-up! "I'm sorry I played my music so loud, I just thought it would help me to enjoy it a little more."

Macavity was silent for a long moment. He stood up, and sauntered over to a cupboard, taking out a plastic bag. He threw it on Misto's lap, growling. Misto carefully opened it, confused. His hands touched familiar lycra and the stretchy polyester of his old dance uniform. The leggings spilled onto the floor as he held his white leotard in trembling fingers. The fabric shook as he began to cry quietly. Macavity scowled and slammed a fist on the table, jostling the cutlery. Misto flinched.

"What is this? WHAT IS THIS?!" He roared, shaking him by the shoulder. His back slammed onto the back of his chair, bruises and scratches protesting. "I thought you'd grown up, but you're just a little boy, aren't you? I CAN'T LOVE AN IMMATURE, FOOLISH BOY, CAN I?"

Misto cried out as he was thrown to the floor. Macavity flexed his hands, and the clothes around him started to burn. He got up quickly to avoid the flames, afraid. Macavity was using magic, which he only did when beyond furious. He'd been sworn to secrecy over it, under pain of death. The threat suddenly seemed a lot more real. His own magic ached to give him a shield, but he didn't know how. 

"I'm sorry," Misto whimpered. "Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"You are going to be MORE THAN SORRY, when I am FINISHED WITH YOU," screamed Macavity, and Misto felt something inside him shatter. A cold realization washed over him. This couldn't be love. He didn't feel like it was. "God, do you even love me?"

"No." Misto said quietly. Macavity stopped for a second, and stood dangerously still. "I don't think I do. Maybe I did, but not anymore."

There was a heavy, dull sounding thud as Macavity punched him in the eye. It began bruising almost immediately, and it cemented the lack of love deep into his heart. This was never love. This was never anything more than a power trip. 

"Get out then," hissed Macavity. "Say goodbye to your degree. Take your things and leave. You have ten minutes, then I call the cops on you or simply kill you myself."

Misto left with a small suitcase eight minutes later, and as the cold summer night wind ripped into him, he tried to remember Victoria's friend's address. Taking one last look at Macavity's cold and horrid house, he started walking. He didn't have enough money for a cab.

As he walked, he thought of what to say. The street names changed, and the houses got fancier. The rich parts of the neighbourhood were turning up, until he finally reached a very large house. It was blue, pretty eggshell even in the cold half moon. There were still lights on, and he checked his dying phone to see if it was the right place. Stilling his jittery heart, he walked up the long driveway, and paused at the door. It took his full willpower to knock on the door, which was opened by a girl he didn't know, but recognised from his sister's pictures.

"Can I speak to Victoria?" He asked. She nodded slowly, and turned around to call out. Soon enough, his sister skidded around the corner and ran to the door. She'd put on healthy weight, her eyes sparkled and she looked so happy. She came to a standstill, covering her mouth with her hands and eyes filling with tears as she saw the big bruise over his eye. "Hey Viccy. I came to get my nails done."

"I sent that ages ago, you're really late," she said, wiping away her tears, alf crying and half giggly. "Demeter, meet my brother, Quaxo Mistoffelees. Misto, meet Demeter. Do you mind if he stays tonight?"

Demeter looked at the two of them and smiled.

"Sure. You should get the nail polish, let's give this brother of yours a manicure to rival that of the gods. My parents never stay here, they're out travelling for the next two years, for their business. They won't mind." 

Misto entered the house, and though the world wasn't so colourful, it seemed a little less grey that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Can we get an f in the comments for misto lads? Lmao I'm updating 2 chapters today cause I'm feeling generous. Usually it will only be once a week tho


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so here's chapter 3, all university names are made up. I'm mixing up American and UK terminology because I've never been to university, cause I'm young as fresh heck dudes

He had stayed with Demeter and Victoria for a week. He looked everywhere for a job, so he could pay back the sweet girl he'd come to love nearly as much as his sister. Eventually he found a place offering to pay him to help with manual labour. He went almost everyday, working his fingers to the pint of calluses over the course of a month, but felt so free it didn't even matter much to him. Victoria was giddy with joy everyday after university, and Misto was happy for her. It made the magic in his chest rumble and he sometimes felt sparks inside his stomach. 

He tried to offer Demeter money for his lodgings at her house, and she looked half offended, telling him to keep it. She looked noticeably less upset after talking in hushed voices with Victoria. Eventually, she just told him to drive her and Victoria to school to save them time finding a parking space. He did so, dropping them off and picking them up, and he felt appreciated each time they clambered in the back, shrieking goodbyes to friends as giggling.

Today he was early, and enjoying the summer sun as he waited for them. He stood outside the car, music playing softly behind him. The final bells rang and sure enough, students began to spill out towards the exits of the school. He kept a half eye open lazily to keep an eye out for the usual gaggle of students that surrounded Victoria. A flash of pale silver hair caught his eye, and he stretched, striding over to her. He felt sociable today.

She spotted him out of the car and screeched, running over and leaping into his arms. The hug swiftly turned into her demanding to be lifted. He smiled, and sat her on his shoulder. She happily perched there, looking down on her friends surprised faces. He let her slide off and rush back over to them. Turning to get back to the car, a hand grabbed his wrist and Victoria pulled him over to her friends.

He knew he was short. Being five foot five, he was nearly shorter than his sister, despite being older by a year. However, this group of exceedingly tall men and women made him feel shorter than ever before. He could barely keep up, and soon his sister was babbling on about how he had to meet them, and how someone named Tugger was asking after him, and that Rumpleteazer still thought he was pretty cool despite coming back 'like a scaredy cat' to apologise. She stopped by the group, who looked interested at his sudden arrival.

"Everyone, this is my brother, Misto!" She said proudly, holding him out like some prize winning pumpkin. Why were dancers so strong? "Misto, these are my friends. I expect you to not immediately start hiding away. Understood?"

He nodded weakly and gave a wan smile. Rumpleteazer waved and he waved back sheepishly, opting to stay quiet. It was only too late that he remembered that his nails were painted the most offensively bright green known to nail polish kind, and he quickly dropped his hands to put them behind his back. The tallest guy in the group stared at him, peering at him like he was a piece of meat. He slammed his fist into his hand as he seemingly remembered.

"You're the guy who we saw dancing in the theatre a couple months ago!" He exclaimed, smiling. "You were so good, I thought Old Deuteronomy was going to offer you a place then and there!"

Misto felt his tiny smile fall. He tapped Victoria in the shoulder twice, their secret way of saying that they had to leave now. She nodded at him and he tried not to run back to the car. As he left, he could hear them talking about how strange he seemed. Victoria told them to shut up, and that he was going through a tough time. It almost made him smile again, but instead he remained blank faced until they were home. When he went to his night shift, he worked twice as hard to ignore his feelings.

-*-*-

This routine continued. He'd go in to pick up the girls, and occasionally he'd go over to her friends and wait for Victoria to be done talking with them. He didn't think much of it until one afternoon when Victoria turned to him and asked if he could also take some of her friends home.

"Its Demeter's car," he said, and she squealed her thanks. Apparently, he could drop her and Demeter home on his way to dropping off two of her friends, and then be home in time for them to all watch a film. She bounced away, and talked excitedly to the two brothers he now knew as Munkustrap and Rum Tum Tugger. The four of them came over, and after a brief debate, he ended up sitting next to Munkustrap. Victoria squished in the middle of Demeter and Tugger, and the four immediately began to chat.

It wasn't a long drive to Demeter's house, and as the road rolled by Misto felt more and more uneasy with his desicion to take the brothers home. All too soon the girls had hopped out, and were running up to the house, calling out goodbyes and laughing at each other. Misto watched them enter the house, and carefully began to reverse. Once he was out on the road again, he swallowed. As long as he was driving, they couldn't hurt him.

"So, Misto, where do you go to?" Munkustrap asked, slapping at his brother as he tried to poke him through the chair.

"I don't go to any university, but I used to go to Hemrant," he replied, trying to push away bad memories. "Until I left. Just cause I'm good at something doesn't mean I enjoy it."

Like magic. He was very, very good at magic. 

"Oh I get ya," Tugger spoke up, grinning. "Just cause I'm good at being handsome doesn't mean I enjoy people lining up to date me!"

Munkustrap sighed and buried his head in his hands. Misto didn't fight the little grin that came from watching the two interact. He had learned that Tugger was a playboy, and Munkustrap was straight laced beyond anything. Demeter didn't stop talking about him. He smiled a softer smile to himself.

"Our school is holding an open day soon, if you want to come?" Rum Tum Tugger offered. It was a bit out of the blue, so Misto frowned. "You don't have to of course, I just heard from your sister that you liked dancing and I thought maybe you'd like to join in."

They were pulling up to their house at that point, and Misto mulled it over silently. As Tugger got out, he asked for dates and times. With a grin, he was handed a phone to input his number, and then several messages came through.

"Take a look at those. See ya, Quaxo."

The door slammed shut.

-*-*-

Whenever he had time, he got to researching. He read through every webpage on the school, and investigated thoroughly what courses they offered. He asked Victoria to bring in any flyers from school, and one day stood up and headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Demeter from behind him. He turned and smiled.

"To the theatre. I want to practice my skills before that open day the school is having next week." She nodded, happily letting him leave. He walked there, feeling the afternoon growing longer and warmer. Soon enough he slipped behind the old theatre, and entered on to the stage. No one was there, but he kept his blindfold off this time.

His music began to play, and his feet began to move. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Chorus. Faster, faster, faster! He leapt into the air, feeling weightless, spinning as he landed, and a laugh bubbled out of him. He easily rolled into a back bend and over into a handstand. Sliding into a split. Bring the leg around and jump up into second position. A song came on, from a show he watched before Macavity. Something Universe? All he knew was that it was called 'Be Wherever You Are'.

He kicked his leg as high as possible, and went straight into a series of turns and jumps and swirling arms. He was laughing as he pushed himself to go higher, hover longer, and turn faster. He let a little magic loose, sparks running up and down his body, pushing him higher. Eventually he just sank to the floor, breathless, and let the cool floor soothe his heated body.

"Let yourself just be whoever you are!" he half sang with the song as it ended. Misto rolled into stretches, elongating his limbs in an effort to reduce the stiffness he'd feel tomorrow. Checking his phone, he noticed a notification from Victoria. His heart dropped a bit, and he suddenly felt like reconsidering his plans altogether _._

_'u know this is an audition day, not an open day right?'_

_'Doesn't matter. I think u should go.'_

_'some of us are performing at the welcome assembly'_

_'I'm coming to u btw'_

_'am inside'_

_'look up dumbass'_

Misto scoffed as he watched his sister picker her way through the theatre seats to his side. She went in for a hug, but reconsidered after looking at his sweaty outfit. He'd had to improvise, with a pair of leggings and a loose tank top. He grinned at her, and spoke first.

"I'm going to do it. I'll audition, and I'm going to try to get in," he declared. At her shocked look, he continued. "I can't get a scholarship, I know that, but I'll find a way to pay for this. Trust me, Viccy, I'm going to come to your school one way or another. I think I want to make friends or something, I'm so lonely, ha ha- oof!"

She swept him up into a hug, and proceeded to lift him bridal style and run about the stage. Goddam, he knew he was small but was this necessary? Apparently, from her hollering, he could tell it was. He held on tight, and jumped down as soon as he could. She smiled and punched his arm, happy that he was following his dreams. 

"You will love it there!" She said, holding his hands in hers. "They've got one room with nothing but an organ in it, it's massive! And there's a butter yellow dance room that when the sunlight hits, feels like you're on the sun! I think you'll love the art rooms, the teachers love to have the dancers as models, and the music teachers adore anyone coming in to listen to the other students!"

On the way home, she told him of everything. She spoke of gourmet cafeteria food that students like her, like him, could get for free with a meal plan. She told him of the special help teachers who aided those with academic problems and mental illnesses. She told him about how Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie were the best actors in the drama department, and they also did street art. Demeter did art and dance, and also played piano. Bombalurina sang like an angel, he should really come to the Performance Evening next year, if he wasn't in it, but really, he definitely would be. She spoke of the insatiable Rum Tum Tugger and his rock band, No Rest for the Dancers. The school sounded better and better by the minute, and it was then that Misto knew; he had to get in.

Even if it meant forever hiding his latent magical powers from everyone he ever knew and loved. That part soured in his head, but he did not mind. Victoria would always be there to adore his tricks, and encourage him to his second dream. His silly dream. His magician dream. But that could always be a hobby, and people would definitely be intrigued by his 'sleight of hand'. As much as it reminded him of Macavity, he tried not to associate it with the beast. Smiling, they entered Demeter's house, still talking about the school.

It was a lot fuller than when they left. There were several undetermined people in the living room, and the sudden appearance of them spooked Misto. He tapped his sister and shot up stairs. She heard his door close and sighed. He really needed to come out of his shell.

Demeter beckoned to her from the living room, and she entered to see all of her friends there. Some sat on the couches, whilst others stood or perched on tables. Alonzo, Tumblebrutus and Jemima were duking it out on Just Dance. Somehow, none of them had any points. At all. Tugger was taking up a whole couch by himself, lazily watching everyone as the sun hit him through the windows. Bombalurina was next to Demeter, trying to make her girlfriend blush. Plato looked over at her and looked away quickly, and she looked down just as quickly. Conversation soon died down, and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm not complaining, but why are you all here?" there was a cacophony as everyone tried to speak at once, until Mungojerrie threw a shoe at the ceiling and shut them all up. "Okay. Let me rephrase that. Demeter, why is everyone here?"

"I may have let it slip that Quaxo was going to try audition?" She winced. Victoria snorted. "Where is he anyway?"

"He went into hiding, he wasn't expecting everyone to appear. But I think if he was, he'd be very grateful." Victoria smiled. "I'll go get him, and we can get this party started! Also get him to change, cause he was dancing for ages and like ew."

There were a few laughs, and she felt something blossom in her chest. She went upstairs to find Misto, evidently fresh out of the shower, toweling of his hair and fixing his shirt. It was white and he was trying to tuck it into his black jeans and put on a black denim jacket all at once. He looked at her, startled, dark hair still damp. She smiled and sat him down. It only took a minute to sort out his hair, and pat on some blush. He stood with her, half buttoned his jacket, and they went down stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions for scenes we want to see are quite loved, my dudes. If u have any questions, my tumblr is 'INerdMuch' or you can comment. I try respond in a few hours.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: ballet exams, I remember those, I'll just do that.  
> Me afterwards; hrm. It seems I know nothing.

Once Misto got used to the constant noise of the party, it was actually quite fun. Someone had brought beers and ciders, and took a cider for himself. He sipped it, sat in the corner and watching the party unfold. Plato was already having issues, after drinking four beers and a cider. He was staring at the television screen, still showing the menu for just dance. He turned to Misto and shouted over the rest of the noise.

"Hey Misto, let's go! Choose the song dude, let's see how good you are!" The room whooped and applauded as he gingerly crept over. Oh dear god this was embarrassing. He didn't know anything other than ballet, though he remembered tap pretty well. He swiped across a couple of songs, not really taking in names. He clicked a random song with four little drops, then leaned in near Victoria.

"What are the drops?"

"Difficulty level."

"Oh. Oh dear."

He turned back to the screen and clicked a random account. He heard Tugger randomly complain that he'd best not mess up his high score. The guitar riff started playing and the girl on screen started to dance. It started off pretty easy, until the prechorus hit. He swing his arms about, and tried to match Plato's energy. He quickly noticed that the song definitely called for a different vibe and switched. As the girl swirled her hips and dragged her hands down her body, he copied, and matched her move for move. There was cheering as he followed one of her moves, one that definitely involved putting his butt in a light he was not sure about.

Once the bridge hit, he checked over to find Plato watching him in awe, barely moving along. Playing it risky, he threw out a wink and popped him in his hips, pushing Plato back into motion. It was a true completion now, with Misto pulling into a far lead. His points all counted as perfect, and as he rolled his hips down and up to the beat, he wondered what Victoria was thinking. A quick glance told him it had something to do with Plato's thighs. The girl on screen finished the song with a death drop, and Misto followed without hesitation. The scores came up and he glanced at them, breathing heavy from the workout. He'd won, of course. His score said he'd beaten a record set over the last one. By two thousand points. He grinned and pulled himself back up, handing Plato his remote as he stood there shell-shocked.

"Maybe you should take something else with ballet," suggested Bombalurina. "I think you'd do well in our hip-hop jazz fusion class. It all girls at the moment, but I think you'd do well." there were murmurs of agreement, and Tugger seemed to be fanning himself on the corner. Misto blushed deep vermillion, pushing his deep black hair out of his face. He quickly tapped his sister on the shoulder and escaped to the kitchen.

She came in five minutes later to see him eating uncooked spaghetti on the counter, staring off into the middle distance. She sighed and shoved a glass of water in his hands and took away the pasta.

"Ever since Demeter gave you free reign of the cupboards you have been eating like a gremlin," she whined, also taking some from the pack to crunch. "You ready to go back?"

"Yeah. If I had known about the song I probably wouldn't have chosen it," he said. Then gave a smirk. "Don't see you complaining though. 'Oh, Plato, your thighs are so hot and sexy.' "

"Nevermind, I no longer love you," she giggled, getting up and going back to the party. He followed her, making kissing noises until she shoved his shoulder and called him a gremlin again. He laughed and let her be, sitting back in his corner. He was undisturbed, until someone blocked out the light to his left. He glanced up and saw Rum Tum Tugger. He sat next to him on the couch, leaning back as if he owned the damn thing.

"So, that was a pretty fantastic dance there," he said, eyes glinting. He had danger's eyes. Misto started to feel uncomfortable, and started scanning for places to go if things went upside down. Tugger, upon seeing this, backtracked exceedingly fast. "I mean, the control you had was phenomenal. I can vaguely dance, but Munkustrap has always been better at that. I think you'll do well at our school."

"Gotta get in first," Misto said, relaxing a little.

"True. But I don't think you'll have to worry about that," Tugger grinned. "Tell me about yourself. You seem interesting."

"Well I guess I'm just an average guy. Got out of a bad relationship a few months back. I can make a nice cake, and I like yellow flowers," he began to rattle off things. Tugger seemed interested, so he kept going. "I don't going outside much, prefer to be in, but I just feel bad if I'm inside too long, ya know? But like, maybe I should screw it be happy instead?"

"Totally, like, I can't stand being in one place too long! I move on from things so quick," Tugger agreed, leaning in. "Like I'll be in my room but the door has to be open because sometimes I just need to get up and be able to get out."

"Oh, such a mood. But like, what about you? What's your favourite colour?" Misto asked. Tugger looked taken aback.

"No one has asked me in a while... I'd say either deep red or royal purple," he tossed his head to get his hair out of the way. Misto smiled and opened his mouth to ask something again when there was a knock on the door. He offered to get up and take this.

He opened the door and felt abject terror fill him. There was no one out there, but instead a burnt white piece of cloth on the doorstep. He picked it up, and watched it flap in the wind. His old leotard. Suddenly, he was angry. He scrunched it up and threw it out into the dark, and stuck his middle finger up. Macavity could suck it, because he would get better.

He went back inside and let off a few sparks from his fingers to cool his temper.

He just had to ignore this.

He ran back outside quickly, and picked it up. It may come in useful later, actually. He tried to convince himself of this as he ran his fingers over the charred edges of fabric. 

-*-*-

"Okay, now try those turns again," hollered Victoria. He was having one last practice before the exam tomorrow. He nodded at her and went into one of his best moves. It was one where he spun around over 30 times in a row with different extensions of his legs and arms. As he started to slow, he noticed another person next to Victoria. The girl was hard to pin down whilst spinning, but it looked to be Etcetera. The girl was young and exuberant, and as he finished she started clapping and whooping. "Stretch out, you're done for today."

As he went through his stretches, he watched Etcetera whisper in Victoria's ear. His sister shook her head, and Etcetera shrugged. She sauntered out, and waved as she left. He gave her an inquisitive look, but she just waved him off. Ignoring it, he stood up and packed his bag. Taking a deep drink from his water bottle, he changed and they headed home. On the way, they stopped for ice cream as the last heats of summer faded away. The sun set far earlier now, and it was twilight by the time they were home. Demeter had ordered pizza, to celebrate, and Misto tucked in quickly. He was tired, but he felt so ready for the exam tomorrow.

He went to bed and fell asleep instantly, content and calm for the first time in months.

-*-*-

He sat in a massive auditorium, dance clothes in the bag next to him. Misto wore something semi-decent, but still felt out of place. Some people had simply turned up in paint stained sweatshirts and jeans. He watched as an older man with shaggy, untamed hair trundled over to the podium.

"Greetings. I am Principle Deuteronomy, but every one generally ignores the title," he smiled as the room laughed a little. "To start, may I just say, I live for the amount of people we have trying out for our courses today. We have a short complitation of students showcasing their talents nurtured here at Junque Yard. Without further ado, here are the students!"

With much cheering and exultation, a group of four students came on stage. Rumpleteazer sat at the drums, Mungojerrie took up a red bass, Bombalurina held her guitar, and finally... In came Tugger. Whilst the group looked pretty rock and roll, he looked as if Elvis and Mick Jagger had a music child. He wore a denim vest with various patches, and a matching shirt with the rest of the band. He leaned into the mic, and licked his lips. He didn't seem nervous in the slightest. 

"First up, ladies, gents and other royalty, we have a performance from my own little group. My name is Rum Tum Tugger, and this is my band, No Rest for the Dancers!"

They started to play, and never before had Misto felt so pleasantly surprised at the sound of rock music. They all worked so well together, and Tugger was killer on vocals. There were a few moments when the whole band sung, and a fewer with a duet between him and Bombalurina. Tugger also seemed to know that his hips were one of his best assets, with how much they moved. As the song came to an end, he noticed how it was mostly the women in the audience cooing and screaming. Mostly. A few other guys were cheering.

He pursed his lips, put his fingers in his mouth and wolf whistled. It got some laughs as Tugger pretended to by shy over it. As soon as he spotted that it had been Misto, he blew a kiss. Misto pretended to catch it, looked at his hand, and crushed it. Tugger laughed, and the group left the stage to various catcalls. Tugger came back a moment later to applause. He waited until it died down, and spoke into the mic.

"Thank you, thank you. But I must say, save your cheers, because now we have a pas de deux by our institutes rising stars, Victoria and Plato!"

The show continued for about two hours, and by the end Misto's hands ached from clapping. He joined in with the chants for an encore, and gave an appreciative grin when the band played another song. Eventually, Old Deuteronomy came back on stage and gave them directions for auditions. As he left the auditorium, he saw his sister run over and jump him. He caught her, and listen as she shouted.

"Plato asked me out!" She screamed, and he spun her in joy. "After our pas de deux, he just sort of said it and I'm just!"

"Congrats, Viccy," he said, hugging her tighter. "Once I'm done with my audition, remind me to shovel talk him. Or, better yet, just tell me when I need to buy a shovel."

She slapped his arm, and he grinned as he jogged over to the audition room for ballet. He went in with a group of six, and they went through a difficult combination. They did it several times to memorise it, and then brought in an examiner. She sat at a table in front of them, lips pursed and hair in a tight bun. Misto watched each perfect performance, and felt more and more anxious. He reminded himself that if he didn't do so well here, there was always the improv section next, and he could pick up marks there.

He repeated this to himself as he danced the steps, trying not to use magic to lift him higher or perfect his landings. He could be a perfect ballerina without it. He finished the set, and stepped to the side. The woman pursed her lips tighter and made a few notes. He nearly wilted, scared of any negativity. Soon after watching the other improv sections, he gained a little confidence over his dancing. He hoped he was half as good. As the song began again, he flung out his arms in second position. Pushing his legs into fifth, he started his improvisation. 

He continued through the music, and knew that as the music crescendoed, it was time to pull out his trump card. He began his set of turns. After the first five he knew most people would stop. After fifteen, he could hear people starting to murmur. Once he finished his fortieth, and went straight into jetès without any loss of balance, he heard a stunned gasp. Slowly his song came to an end, and he finished with a grand jetè into a pirouette and finished in third position. He tried to not breathe too heavily.

The woman gaped at him as he stood back with the group and the last dancer went up to perform. They danced, but didn't try to attempt what he had done. As soon as their group was done and ushered out, he was bombarded by the other in his group. Luckily for him, Victoria was there to drag him away.

"Sorry, I need to talk to my brother," she said. One of them looked at her confused. "I'm albino, yes he is my brother."

They left, and got him a drink before the Jazz tryouts. He discussed his turns with her, and she smiled when he told her about the lady's face when he was done. All too soon, his jazz tryout was over, and he was being congratulated by his friends. They swarmed him, and Tugger even managed to escape the rabid girls around him to clap him on the back.

"Well done! Next time though, please don't crush my kisses," he pouted. Misto grinned.

"I won't wolf whistle you either."

"My ego boost!" cried Tugger dramatically, clutching his chest and leaning on his brother. The group laughed, and Misto felt so at home. His cheeks hurt from joy, and he grabbed his sister into a hug. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I named the school Junque Yard. You're gonna tell me old Dueteronomy wouldn't just... Do that? As per usual, comments fuel me, blah blah blah. Updates in a week, I'll see you then!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for @nulberry who seems cool as hell

The letter sat ominously on the table. Victoria stared at it as if trying to decipher its contents through x-ray alone. Misto grabbed it and ripped it open, done with the tense atmosphere. He began to read through it, carefully examining each word. His face was blank, and he put it down slowly, taking a deep shuddery breath. Victoria's stood up to comfort him, only to have him burst into watery giggles and shove the letter at her. In big red letters, it said; ACCEPTED.

"I got in, Viccy," he sobbed. "All by myself, without any help." She pulled him close and they rocked together, elated beyond relief. The letter lay on the table, and Misto eventually drew back to wipe his eyes.

"You start week after next, so you'd best be prepared," she warned him. "Do you have your uniform, pens, pencils, calculator, folders, highlighters, bag-"

She was cut off as he put a finger to her lips. Narrowing her eyes, she opened her mouth and bit him. Yowling he pulled it back, and cradled it away from her, half betrayed. She got up and stretched, leaving the room to no doubt inform the small cluster of people outside of the kitchen of the good news. There was a general hush for about five seconds, and then there was shouting as people entered the room to congratulate him. It was overwhelming, but for once, Misto didn't want to leave. He found himself being lifted onto Mukustrap's shoulders, and clutched on tightly, not afraid that he would be dropped, but not really wanting to let go.

He was half glad that he wasn't as tall as Tugger.

The celebration continued into a sort of pizza party, and after the hassle of ordering everything ("No, Tugger, no one else likes anchovies." "I like them!" "Fine, Misto likes them too.") they sat down in front of the television to watch a film. After a short debate, Misto grabbed the remote and put on 'Lilo and Stitch'. No one complained as it started, and most were engrossed by the time that pizza arrived. They finished that film, and no one seemed to want to leave just yet. Demeter put on a horror film, and Misto sensed it was his time to leave. He was trapped either side, though, by Tugger and Victoria, squished onto a two seat couch.

It was fine, he could do this.

Ten minutes later, on screen something happened that made his blood boil and stomach roil. The woman on screen was running away from her husband, as he chased her with a bat. He growled low in his throat, and as the film progressed, he got angrier. The woman, driven to desperate measures as partner after partner abused her, went on a killing spree. As she killed each one, he began to feel satisfaction that each was dead. When she got to her original husband, killing him with a bat, he actually made a small sound of approval. Soon enough the credits rolled, and Misto nodded to himself, pleased.

"Good for her," he declared, and Victoria nodded sagely in agreement. "Gives me half a mind to go 'insane'. What?"

The room stated at him.

"I mean, yeah, the guys probably deserved worse," Plato said, carefully. Where this was going, Misto was hesitant to find out. "But like, couldn't she like, have ended it by like sending them to prison after a beating?"

"Suffering more, I like it," Misto mused. At the horrified look Plato gave him, he reckoned that this wasn't what he meant. "Still, it's very hard for abuse victims to testify in court and be taken seriously, especially in marriage issues. Especially if it was a man being abused."

"Fair enough," Plato reasoned. The conversation topic was dropped as autoplay began to beep a warning that it would play a zombie film. Demeter turned it off and selected High School Musical instead. They all sang along, raucously off key, banishing the tenseness of the last film. It drew later and later until people began saying their goodbyes, and the three were sat alone in the house.

Misto felt so content, he nearly was asleep despite it only being four in the afternoon. His hair felt staticky as his magic let out short and soft bursts. He felt so strangely detached from his body, that he almost missed the ring of his cellphone. He stood up and answered it, voice slightly gravelly from drowsiness. The voice on the other end shocked him and felt suddenly far more awake.

"Hello love," purred Macavity, voice tinny over the phone. "I know you blocked my old number from your phone, but I got a new one. I just had to say that I missed you."

"Goodbye," said Misto, going to hang up.

"Quaxo, if you hang up I personally will break your legs," he hissed. "A shame, when you just got accepted into that art school."

"How did you-"

"Let's just say a little post on a certain application may have sent me a twitter," he could hear the malicious grin through the phone. It was like oil slick on his arms, dribbling to his feet. "Alonzo. Seems an awfully nice young man, if a bit young for you. Tell me, how eager were you to get into someone new's trousers? Wanted friends so bad that you bought them off?"

"Shut up, Macavity," Misto growled. "Alonzo was just trying to help us celebrate with a funny picture. Just cause no one likes you without months of manipulation doesn't mean that they don't like me."

"Tsk, Tsk. So fiery now, aren't we? Where was this passion while you were with me?" he sounded like he was enjoying this cruelty. Misto hung up immediately, and threw his phone on the ground. Lifting his boot, he crushed it under his heel, eyes glazing with tears. He stomped on it, over and over, until Victoria's voice filtered in through the haze of righteous anger and well earned fear. He fell into her arms and sobbed.

"He knows where I am, Viccy, he knows about the school," he said between heavy breaths. "He called me and I just had to get rid of that phone, he knew, knew too much!"

For all it was worth, his sister just held him close and let him soak her nice shirt with his tears. The coherent part of his brain told him he should probably get her a new one, as this was definitely ruined by now. She rubbed at his back, and muttered placating words and soft condolonces, telling him he was safe. He glanced up at one point to see Demeter watching the two of them sadly. Victoria smiled at her, and nodded to the kitchen meaningfully. She let go of him and handed him a cushion in her place as she went to talk with Demeter.

He traipsed up the stairs, and called down a goodnight. The girls responded, and left him alone to work through the better of it.

-*-*-

The next day he went out to buy a new phone, and replace his sister's shirt. Whilst looking for the right one, he noticed several he liked anyway, and treated himself. He never spent his money anyway, and he wanted to treat himself. It had taken everything to refuse his sister coming along. He needed to show that he wasn't afraid, and that he was perfectly fine being alone. Taking his pile of clothes to the changing rooms, he ignored the looks he got from an older man. After Macavity, he didn't care what old men thought.

Well. He cared what his teachers would think. But that was different.

Satisfied with his purchase, he left the store. There was a bubble tea store just a few meters down, and he stopped there to pick up an orange and cream drink. Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie had been raving about them, and he knew he had to try one. Technically, they got strawberry and cream, but he liked oranges more. Sipping it, he chewed on the boba things at the bottom. A little strange, but not bad at all. Putting his headphones on, he continued to walk out of the shopping complex and towards Demeter's car. As he walked, he noticed some people leaning over the car windows.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" He yelled, and the trio began to run. He spotted greyish hair, and his stomach sank. Growltiger. He'd hung around Macavity's house on occasion, and looked at him in ways that made his skin crawl. Misto looked over the car for damages, and found to his dismay that there was nothing but lipstick on the window, spelling out the words; 'Watch it, Kitten'. He took his phone out and clicked several pictures. More evidence for his growing compilation. 

He rubbed it off as best he could with some wet wipes in the glove compartment, and drove home. He went straight to Victoria to give her the shirt, then sat her down.

"I'm filing a restraining order against him, and I need your help," he stated. She didn't question him, but nodded grimly. "So we need to go to the police, and get a court hearing. He will be informed by letter, and, we won't have to see him until we are in court. I've thought about this."

"Don't you need evidence?" Drawled Munkustrap from the door. "I'm taking online law courses. What do you have to damn this guy?"

"I have pictures, both of a message left today and of me when I came here after leaving him," Misto said. "I destroyed the screen of my phone, but you can still pull the conversation from it. Victoria is a witness, Demeter is a witness, and I think the fact that we were in a relationship should be enough to get him on some kind of list."

Munkustrap nodded. Then a look flitted over his face.

"Who uh, who is this guy again?" He questioned. "We never got his name, you know."

"Macavity."

Munkustrap suddenly looked terrifying, eyes darkening and shoulders widening. He made a noise deep in his throat, and strode over to Misto, pulling out a chair and facing him. Though he was a serious man, neither of them had ever seen him in such a stony fury before.

"Get all your evidence. We are making you a watertight case, and I personally will shred him if he comes near you. Victoria, get some paper and pens. I'm calling my father to get any camera evidence of him lurking around the school, and don't you say that you haven't seen him," he said sharply to Misto. "He's been following you there as well, hasn't he? Some days you were aching to get the girls home as fast as possible. He's a bad piece of work, and trust me, all Jellicles want him as far away as possible." 

Misto nodded weakly as Munkustrap began calling his father. Demeter walked in with Victoria, holding out the utensils. She also had her laptop and portable printer, which she set up on the table next to them. She linked up Misto's old phone, and downloaded the audio of the call, then took the images from his new one and the pictures of the night he came over. Originally they had been to show off his nails, but there were a few pictures of his face, and as well, his black eye. Victoria began drafting a statement, writing out paragraphs and cherry picking the best lines from each. Munkustrap stepped out to make his call, and came back in moments later, videos sent by email. Demeter saved them and the images to a clean USB. Misto worked on the main address of the issue, and filed everything away in a brown envelope neatly. As the final statement was slid in, he grimly grinned at the three of them.

"Let's go report this freak," he said, magic turning over in his chest. The four of them got in the car, and Victoria drove them downtown to the Police Station with vindictive speed. They entered, and it seemed that for a moment, Misto should stop what he was doing. What could ever deter Macavity? It seemed pointless as old anxieties, strong in their ancient growth like eldritch gods, swarmed him. He took one glance at his friends, and steeled himself.

"Hi, I'd like to report a man named Macavity," he said to the lady behind the desk. She raised an eyebrow that said, 'not another one', but opened her computer anyway. "I'd like to file for harassment, stalking, abuse both verbal and physical, and get a restraining order against him. When can we have a court hearing?"

"I'll need proof first, sweetie," she said, not looking too bored anymore. Her eyes widened as he handed her the thick brown envelope, and then his old phone. "Right. I will get these all checked in real quick. Take a seat, dears, and feel free to take a lollipop."

Misto took one, dark purple grape, and threw himself on one of the cushy waiting seats. His friends and sister sat beside him, each with a different lollipop. They could do this. They had to do this.

An hour passed by. Victoria had taken a picture with all of them sticking out sweet stained tongues, and posted it on her Twitter. She hadn't captioned it, but it still got her excited to see a like. She started reading out comments.

"Alonzo says that we look cool as hell. Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie each want a lolly now. Plato said I look cute! Aw!" She typed out a short reply. "Huh. Tugger just left a heart emoji."

"Ahem, Mister Mistoffelees?" Called out the desk lady. He got up and stood in front of her, trying not to show his nervousness. "Your hearing will be next week Friday. Is that okay?"

"I start school the week after, so it's perfect," he grinned. She smiled at him sadly.

"Luckily there was plenty of evidence. Just stay safe until then, okay?" He nodded, and the four of them headed home. They had a lot of preparing to do for court, and it was mostly mental. They were going to win. He just knew it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ha ha I love you all also comment if you got the orange soda strawberry soda reference lmaoooo


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, emotional ride time! But, like.... Chapters coming up are a lot more chill. Macavity ark has nearly been completly written, and will be fully finished by chapter twenty four or five. Then we can get deeper into magic, how it works, that stuff.
> 
> I think I mentioned, but yeah, remember this is SLOW BURN. Tugger and Misto will interact before they jump into love, but it's sparing at the beginning.

The days passed in a weird mix of too fast and too slow. Misto spent his time finding a suitable outfit from his closet, trying out his new purchases out with older combinations. Munkustrap stopped by with Rum Tum Tugger, offering them freshly baked cookies. Apparently Old Deuteronomy really cared for his future students. That, and he'd heard second hand of how good he was at ballet, and was impressed. Victoria rushed about constantly, fussing about this and that. She even went out and cut her hair from her mid back to her shoulders, and brushed up on the law.

When she had come home, he'd simply congratulated her on her hair cut, and she'd smiled. She'd only kept it long for Macavity, as he'd always said little girls should sit still and be pretty. Victoria had always wanted to punch him for it, but alas, she was too short to adequetly remove his teeth. 

All too soon, but not soon enough, Friday morning dawned. Misto got ready, wearing a deep midnight blue shirt and trousers. He wore a bow tie, studded with gold stars, just to make himself feel a little less... Funeral-Y. Victoria appeared in a white knee-length dress, floating around her legs and ruffled at the sleeves. They both nodded to each other, and got in the car. Demeter sat in the back for moral support, in jeans and a shirt, ready to wait outside for them. The rest of the group offered to come, but Misto turned them all down. The drive took an hour, but he didn't relax once, much too afraid of what was coming to calm down. 

As he pulled up to the courthouse, it seemed one of them hadn't listened. Rum Tum Tugger stood outside, waiting for them. Once they'd parked, he stood by the car and waited for them all to exit.

"I've come as an escort. I'm just here to keep you away from the scumbag, and for a little extra protection." He seemed entirely serious. Black dressed from head to toe, with fingerless leather gloves and chains on his belt, he looked every part the escort. He had tied his hair into a loose bun at the base of his neck. "Love what you've done with the hair, Victoria."

She snorted, and they all walked into the cool interior of the courthouse. Macavity was already inside, apparently, and they just had to take their seats and wair for it to begin. They had around ten minutes. Misto went inside and sat next to Victoria in the defendants box, feeling uncomfortable as the public's eyes drilled into him. Demeter waved from outside as the door closed, and Tugger gave a supportive thumbs up.

Then the trial began. All stood for the judge, a sweet little lady, who smiled.

"You're welcomed to be seated. For the record, we're here for the request by the plaintiffs for a temporary restraining order in the matter of British Civil Legality and others versus Reno, civil number 98-5591. Could counsel identify themself who will be presenting this morning?" She asked in a clear and high voice. Victoria squeezed his hand and stood up.

"I, Victoria Mistoffelees, will be presenting Prosecution," she declared, standing tall and proud.

"I, Griddlebone, will be presenting for Defence," drawled the sleazy man across the aisle from them.

"Thank you. Prosecution, please plead your case, with any evidence gathered. Defence, please wait until Prosecution has finished, and then we shall see each testimony. Are there any witnesses?"

"We have three witnesses coming to the stand today, your honour," Victoria said calmly. She cleared her throat, and began. "On the tenth of March, two years ago, my brother became involved with the Prosecuted, Macavity. Macavity manipulated him into an abusive relationship, both verbal and physical. My brother was seventeen at the time; Macavity was forty two. This year, in May, my brother left Macavity and came to the lodgings I currently share with him and my friend, Demeter. He came to us beaten, and clearly terrified. These images were originally to show off his nails that we painted whilst calming him down, which is why he seems happy."

The projector showed three pictures on a slow loop. One was of Misto holding a silver glass up next to his face, pulling his lips into a pucker and looking off to the side, showing off his blue and gold nails. The second was him covering his bruise a tiny bit to show off the rainbow nails on the other hand. The final was just him facing the camera, a picture taken by accident as they tried to think of a way to pose his nails. Misto looked away, trying not to sniffle. It was ages ago. He shouldn't be crying.

"This is where I bring out my first witness. Before this, Quaxo had been sneaking off to the abandoned theatre to dance. One evening he was caught, and a lovely woman by the name of Jennyanydots will tell you exactly what happened. Mrs Jennyanydots? Could you please tell the court what happened?" Victoria said, letting her brother clutch at her hand. He was shaking slightly.

"Well, I went there to check up on the old place, and I saw this young man dancing ever so beautifully. Even though he was moving quickly, I could see hand shaped bruises on his arms, and once he noticed us, he was clearly spooked, running away ever so quickly. He cams back the next day to apologise, and seemed very downtrodden and meek," Jenny reported. "Coming from a mother, I knew something was wrong, but he didn't come back, so I never got to check up on him."

"Thank you. What else do you have in evidence?" The judge said, looking concerned for the young man now visibly shivering in the warm courtroom. He refused to look over at the prosecuted, hiding behind his sister.

"We have the transcript and audio of a threatening phone call made by Macavity to Quaxo despite him having blocked the number. I will now play it, but first may my brother put on a soundproof headset?"

"Granted." Misto quickly pulled on the headphones, playing a soft ballad as the audio clip played. From the Court's faces, it seemed it would be hard for Macavity to defend against that. His sister tapped him twice, and he took the headphones off and placed them in the table in front of him.

"For my second witness, I have Demeter, who saw the aftermath of that phonecall, and saw him the night he escaped. Demeter, could you talk about what happened on both occasions?" Demeter nodded, and sent a soft grin to Misto. He gave her a wobbly half smile. She'd changed into more formal attire, a pencil skirt and simple red blouse. 

"On the night Misto came to us, he was constantly terrified, always glancing over his shoulder and jumping at the littlest noises. He still hates it when a sudden noise comes up, and sometimes spends whole days hiding in his room. He had so many injuries all over him, and the black eye took two weeks to heal." She gave a sympathetic look over at the two of them, before continuing. "Following the phonecall, I entered the room to find Misto crushing the screen of his phone under his boot. He was sobbing, absolutely terrified, and I ran to get Victoria. He kept saying that he was scared and that Macavity knew where he was and where he was going."

"Thank you, Demeter. For my final witness, and final piece of evidence, I call Munkustrap to the stand." Victoria's voice wobbled. She pressed play on the projector, and a five minute film of complied cctv footage of Macavity leering around the school came up. In each, Misto was always driving the car, or pulling his sister and Demeter towards it, glancing at him. The film ended, and Munkustrap cleared his throat.

"It came to my attention that Macavity was hanging about the school when, one afternoon, Misto seemed insistent that the girls head home. He kept looking about, clearly terrified, until they aqquiesced to leaving. Uh, he also recently got accepted into our school, and that was when he received the call. Thank you." He bowed slightly, and stepped away, looking nervous. For all he knew of the law, he didn't seem to be so fond of the spotlight. 

"That is all from prosecution," Victoria said. As she sat, Misto moved closer to her to grab onto her arm.

The defence clearly looked overwhelmed. Griddlebone stood, and pulled excuses out of his ass, clearly unprepared for such extensive evidence. He bluffed the best he could, but when he had finished, Macavity was nearly vibrating with anger. The judge raised an eyebrow, and turned to the jury.

"We shall take a ten minute recess while the jury come to a decision. Please feel free to wait outside."

Misto nearly collapsed when he left the room, breathing heavily and clutching his chest, as if it could quell the beat of his magic like a tattoo on his ribs. Victoria went to catch him, but Tugger beat her to it, helping him into a plush chair near the door. Misto didn't say anything, but shook quietly, as a few tears dribbled down his face.

"He was so close," he whispered. Demeter, Munkustrap and Jennyanydots rounded the corner, and immediately went in to comfort him. "I don't want to go back in. Victoria, please say I don't have to go back in."

"You have to," she said firmly but kindly. "I'll hold your hand the whole way through. He won't touch you." Misto sent her a look so scared it broke her heart. He nodded, breathing slowly, and trying to still his shaking hands.

"Tugger, you're tall and look like you could take on Macavity with two limbs bound, why don't you go in with them?" Suggested Munkustrap. "Just as a deterrent and a comfort. Quaxo, would that make you feel better?"

"You can just call me Misto, if you want," he offered. "And yes please. Actually, I'd prefer if you called me Misto. Quaxo was always so formal."

"Sure thing, Misto," Rum Tum Tugger chuckled. A bell rang, and they stood up to file back inside. Though he already held Victoria's hand, he still leant on Tugger for support as he made his way to his seat. While they sat, Tugger stood behind them, glaring at Macavity threateningly. The judge didnt remark on it, but went straight into the swing of the things.

"Due to overwhelming evidence, we hereby find that Macavity is guilty on all charges, and shall hereby be placed on a sexual offender's list for interacting especially with a minor, and have a restraining order placed on him indefinitely. The Jury also finds Mister Mistoffelees to be completely undeserving of any such treatment, and wish him well. Court Dismissed!" She slammed her gavel down, and that was it. Misto was free. His shoulders felt a great weight lift, and he started crying again, but this time for relief. It seemed all was right in the world...

"I will see you again, Quaxo!" Screeched Macavity, breaking the light aura of the room. "You'll come crawling back like the pathetic child you are, desperate for any scrap of love or attention! You will regret this, and I will make sure of it!"

He swept out of the courthouse, and was escorted strongly to get his prints taken and mugshot posted on the national list. The outburst had been short, but now Misto was scrabbling to get out, panicking, and trying to control what little he could. Tugger held him close, and Victoria flipped Macavity the bird, to gasps of the court. Misto was clearly not going to hold up in the courtroom any longer, and was walked to the car by Rum Tum Tugger and Munkustrap flanking him. The local newspaper was outside, asking for a story, begging for an interview. Misto responded by crying harder and hiding from then until he was sat in the backseat of Demeter's car, squished between the two brothers.

His sister and Demeter got in after a little while, and in silence they drove away. Misto sniffled in the backseat, pressing into the seat as hard as possible. He hoped he wasn't shaking too hard, but knew he clearly was, and the brothers beside him could definitely feel it. Tugger put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into his chest, making soft hushing noises. Munkustrap offered him a hand to hold, which he took. Victoria stretched her arm back and rubbed at his knee, and that's when it truly hit him.

He had friends, and he was safe. Macavity couldn't touch him. He listened as Demeter turned to the radio to a classical station. Lulled by the movement of the car, the soft Bach and Tugger's surprisingly warm and soft chest, he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. The traffic was worse on the way back, so it took longer. At one point he felt someone loosen his bowtie and top button, before falling back asleep after realising it was just Victoria leaning over from the front.

When they finally got home, he was still deeply asleep. He drowsily blinked up at Tugger as he tried to wake up Misto, but ultimately failed. He felt like he was swaying for several long moments, but then he was in his bed. His shoes were pulled off, and his duvet was gently pulled over him. He rolled over on the cool pillow, and dreamed of blonde hair, navy cotton and gold stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual I'm a hungry child for comments and such. If you have any criticism or angry comments, here's my paypal, it's two pound per insult;
> 
> chloevanwyk06@gmail.com
> 
> Also it's my email if u wanna just chat instead. I love you all, see you next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings those who actually stick around to read my meager attempts at fanfics! I wasn't sure about this chapter, but it slotted in well enough, so please comment if it's okay!

Misto took his weekend to rest, and on the morning of his first classes he got in the car for the first time to drive himself to university as well. The girls were chatting voraciously, each offering to show him around the campus. He quietened them with promise that they could each show him a different area, and before long they pulled into a parking spot. The girls each took their bags and frowned at his plain black one.

"We need to get you to the Art department, and steal their bedazzler," declared Victoria with finality. She showed off the sparkles and paint on her bag, a massive 'V' decorated with white and blue gems. Demeter showed off hers, all in autumn colours. "I'm thinking you should go full rainbow. You wear monochrome all the time anyway, you deserve some colour."

"What's up ladies?" a smooth voice called over to them. Rum Tum Tugger strolled up, languid with each step. He hooked his arm into Misto's, and began to guide him away. "Borrowing your brother for a tour, Vic, won't be long!"

They had somehow gotten inside the building before Victoria could close her mouth. She looked so indignant Demeter burst out laughing, and received a solid whack from a dance bag for it.

Misto clung on tight to Tugger as they wove through students. Several girls sent flirty waves hid way, and Tugger reciprocated, still pulling Misto along with him. They eventually came to a less full corridor, and there they stopped for a few moments. Tugger grinned at him, and swung his arms out.

"Welcome, to your personal tour of Junque Yard! Given by the son of the Principle himself, Rum Tum Tugger. Tell me, where'd you like to go first?" He purred, leaning on the wall without a care in the world. Misto snickered quietly, and folded his arms.

"Youre giving the tour," he replied. "I have my first class in two hours though, so try keep it snappy, hm?" Briefly he wondered if the sass would be seen as he'd intended: a joke. Luckily Tugger laughed, and began strolling down the hall. He spouted clearly made up facts as they walked, pointing to doors and halls and classrooms with far too much grandeur for someone showing off a school. Misto ooh'd and aah'd at the right parts, and looked interested as Tugger began to talk more informally of his own degrees.

"So I'm taking music performance, but I also do portraiture and still life in art," he half bragged. "You should come down at some point, the teachers are dying for models you know."

"Sure, as long as I'm fully clothed," Misto said absentmindedly, looking up at a large display on one of the walls. He was quickly dragged away, but not before noticing that there was a trophy dedicated to the performance of the University. They had several well known alumni, but he didn't manage to get their names as he was tugged into a massive dining hall. It rand out with chatter and shouts, noise ungodly. Misto covered his ears and spectate the chaotic dance of food and people unfold before him. "What in gods name?"

"Cafeteria," Tugger grinned. "Welcome to the best place on earth. The food here is spectacular, and everyone gets to eat. For some of the luxury items though, you do have to pay extra... fair but expensive for some of the chocolates. Come on, you have fifteen minutes until your class starts. Follow me, I know a shortcut."

Tugger's shortcut turned out to be sprinting over the grass and trying to not get caught.

Misto grinned, and knew he wouldn't have it any other way. He grabbed a hold of the door to the ballet department, and looking back to thank Tugger, he found him breathless. He rolled his eyes and entered, gently placing a bag in the corner. 

Several students were starting to warm up, and he got started instantly. He recognised Alonzo, Exotica, and Etcetera among the crowd, but did not recognise the other two. He stretched out his whole body, and his cardio was taken care of by the sprint over the grass. He shed his outer clothes into his uniform leotard. It was a deep obsidian velvety fabric, and he appreciated the softness of the black tights. His name was embroidered at the top of the back, in glittery rainbow, courtesy of Victoria and Demeter. It wasn't large, but he was happy it was there. The dance shoes were soft, as he'd broken them in previously, and a navy red in colour.

The door opened, and a woman entered. She looked like a pencil and a can of hairspray had formed an unholy communion. Blush graced her taught cheeks, and her eyeshadow sparkled deep blue and green. Her actual eyes were brown, and her hair a decaying ginger. She stood at the front of the room, and cleared her throat. Misto ran gracefully to stand in front of her, quickly followed by other students slower on the uptake. This was their mistress. Clearly a prima ballerina. She sniffed at them, scouring them for imperfections in posture.

"We shall begin by introducing ourselves," She said. "I am Mistress Babette. My name means 'promise of God'. Left to right, names."

"Um, my name is Alonzo," said he, looking nervously about. "It means 'fun and noble', depending on translations."

"My name is Etcetera, and it doesn't have a meaning, but it's really a nice name!" The teacher sneered at this, but otherwise made no comment. 

"I am James. My name means 'supplanter', a 'follower'."

"I am Exotica. My name is literal; it means 'exotic'. My parents were hippies."

"Oh, I'm Soralia, and my name means 'she who is the sunlight'. So uh, that's me!"

Finally, all eyes were on him. He swallowed. Quaxo or Mistoffelees? He really didn't want to be called Quaxo: it was only really used when he was in trouble. Far too formal. The only real choice was-

"I am Mistoffelees, and all I know is my name is derivitive of the Demon Mephistopheles , most well known for his magic." He kept a straight face as he spoke. "But I prefer Misto, if possible."

"A devil name, eh?" Mistress Babette tsked. "Let's see if your name influences your dance. We will be starting with a warm-up. Keep turning for as long as you can on one foot, and once you can no longer turn, sit. Last one standing gets no prize other than satisfaction. Begin."

Misto breathed evenly. He could do this. He began to spin, and kept his head level as he spotted. He could see Etcetera sit first. Alonzo followed her with James. Soralia sat next, seemingly happy. It was neck to neck with Exotica, turning around and around until she too sat, in awe of his turns. He saw them all sit and stopped himself evenly, joining them on the ground. Mistress Babette did not look pleased at the fact he'd done so well.

-*-*-

Misto wandered around the school after his class was done. He had no other lessons today, and he was interested in exploring further. As he walked he closely admired the tapestries on the walls, and eventually reached out to touch the edge of one.

Suddenly, his magic was buzzing, sparks connecting with the stone behind it. Silently, they all moved back to reveal a passageway, previously hidden. Misto gasped and drew back his hand, holding it close to his chest. Glancing about, he took a deep breath and entered the dark passageway. Using his torch on his phone, he began to walk a little way in. Behind him, the stones closed quietly. He kept walking, eventually coming across a large domed room. In the centre he found a map, engraved into stone. He snapped a few pictures, and read the words inscribed below carefully.

"Converteretur magicum  
Propter quod nostra apud PRAECANTATIO  
EXERTUS doctor artium arcanorum scientia, STOLAS," he frowned at that point. Wasn't Stolas a demon? He kept reading, ignoring his magic swelling and flourishing into dazzling lights behind him. They coalesced. "Vocatio ore exíbit gládius acútus magnanime unam, et exhibebit mihi modo communicationem ministerii quod fit intra quoddam quasi chaos redigantur praenosco me?!"

A cough sounded behind him and he jumped. Spinning around with apologies in his tongue, Misto stared up at a strange being. A giant owl lounged on a conjured chaise lounge, eating grapes from a floating bowl. It sat up, stretched, and waved away the grapes.

"Yah, what do you need," it drawled, and Misto couldn't help but think this goetic demon sounded very... Well, chavvy. "Like, you've got magic, so uh, yah want me to like show you how to use it right? Right luv, first up stop cowerin'. Ain't very magician-Y mkay?"

Misto nodded and straightened up, unthinkingly. Then he snapped himself to reality.

"Did I just summon a demon? With my magic?" He asked weakly. Stolas rolled their eyes and nodded. "Okay, great. Just what I needed right now."

"Wha'ever. You read the incantation, bruv, so now I hafta like find our ya magic type and like, teach you everyfing. So, what magic do you do?" When Misto didn't respond, they sighed heavily and looked at him intensely. A strange tingle shuddered up his spine. "Right. Ain't half as weak as tha' Macavity bloke. Absolute nonce, him. You're pretty powerful, yeah, but you're more of a conjuration and illusion worker, innit. And you've got this weird block, like a cap on it. Definitely self inflicted that, mate. You can always branch out, but these two will come to you real natural, yeah."

A stack of three ancient books collapsed on the floor next to him, and Misto felt his eyes widen. Stolas noticed his phone and snapped their talons, and pointed to his device. Opening it, he found three files on his homepage. They were gilded little icons, cute in their strange existence. 

"Read those, and come back every week or summin, so I can teach you the physical bits, mkay?" They said. "But like I'm going back to bed. See you next week, magician boy. Don't tell anyone, unless they know of your magic, bruv. This stuff ain't meant for regular cats."

And with those words, Stolas disappeared, leaving the faint scent of candyfloss vape. Misto stared, and sank to the floor. What had just happened? He needed to get out and go home. He needed to read those books. Why was Macavity here? God, it was just so much. He poured over the map for a few moments, and took off down a passage marked with a circle with four squiggles running through it. If he read it right, this should take him out to the place closest to the exit. He felt lightheaded as his magic buzzed the door open, and he stumbled out from a tapestry. No one was around, but he still checked nervously.

He went to sit outside and wait for Victoria and Demeter, feeling cold and cobwebs even in the summer sunlight as it faded to autumn. It still beat heavy on his back, and he took as much heat as he could in. It would stay this hot until about mid October, when he knew temperatures would plummet. He needed a new coat for then. He giggled to himself. Only he could think of a new coat when he'd just talked with a real, actual demon. If he could tell everyone, he would, but he'd been warned to only tell Victoria as she knew of his magic.

He didn't want to think of telling Macavity. That would violate the restraining order. He smiled, as that brought the memory of winning the appeal and subsequently falling asleep. He frowned a little then. Who had carried him to his bed? It had to be someone strong. Victoria definitely would not have made the stairs. Munkustrap he knew wasnt going to touch him without explicit permission, as were his careful rules of respect. He liked that about Munkustrap. Definitely not Demeter. That left...

He'd have to thank Tugger at some point. Maybe bake some cookies for having to deal with him. They had the ingredients at home, but he should stop to get some icing. Maybe he could decorate them? Wrap a few in a bag and give it to him in private, as a thank you.

As he was smiling at his plan, Victoria shoved an ice cube down his neck. He screeched, and jumped up to begin chasing her as it melted on his back, soaking his shirt. She cackled as she ran away, and Misto put the thoughts of the day out of his head, bent on revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, you got anything nasty to say, here's my paypal:
> 
> Chloevanwyk06@gmail.com 
> 
> And again, if you feel like being nice, it's my email address if you want to chat!
> 
> Also if u don't like chav Stolas I'm sorry but that was an executive desicion by me because it is my highest point of glory that a goetic demon of knowledge vapes and wears orange foundation on top of Grey feathers.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, upload a chapter because I feel the desperate need to? Maybe. So.

He'd tried to bake cookies. In doing so, he'd somehow cut his hands to shreds, burned three separate batches, and hit his head hard enough to have Victoria fuss over him for ten minutes. But finally he'd done it. Twenty perfect chocolate chip cookies, at one in the morning. He let them cool briefly. As they did, he mixed his coloured icing and thought of what to put on them. Maybe some Z's, or would that be too cliche? Sighing, he brought up his only choice; YouTube tutorials. He could just follow an easy one, and be done. 

An hour later, while washing up, he reckoned that they were well decorated. They had little cats on them, several tuxedo's (he wasn't too biased) and several maine coons. He'd gathered they were Tugger's favourites after a quick peek at his Instagram. Between the most thottacious posts he'd ever had the knowledge of, he saw several messages for cat shelters, and pictures of his cat, Ripper. Ripper was very tall, very fat and very dopey. It was clear Tugger loved his cat more than playing hard to get. Ripper was a strong golden blonde, with a large mane and brown highlights. 

He'd captured Ripper's likeness as well as he could, before letting them dry and cool more overnight. Switching off the lights and taking a cursory glance to check if the kitchen was clean, he trundled off to bed. Thank the lord his Jazz lesson was at the end of the day. Maybe he could get away with hiding in the Music Suite to ambush Tugger. Determined, he switched off his lights and felt his head hit the pillow. He needed to conserve energy to not chicken out tomorrow.

He closed his eyes and suddenly it was morning. He checked his watch; three REM cycles. Nice. Getting up, he untangled his silky pyjamas and went to wash his face. Once clean, he applied light cream and patted on a dash of mascara before heading down to finish packaging his cookies. He audibly hissed when he saw his sister and Demeter debating on whether or not to eat one each. They spring back, sheepish, as he wrapped them each individually. Placing the little packages into a shiny purple bag, he tied it with a red bow.

On the way to university, he was incredibly careful with his little package. Once he'd told them what they were for, the girls let him go without much else to say. They shared a look, but he brushed it off. Girls were strange.

About three hours in, he quickly realised that catching Tugger alone would be damn near impossible. He resorted to drastic measures; take him from a public to a private area, therefore eliciting rumours. It was the lesser of two evils, the other being going up to him in public and just talking flat out. Good lord, he'd never survive that. 

"Hey Tugger, could I talk to you in private?" He asked, smiling politely at the little possey of admiring students of all genders. Tugger gave him a strange grin and nodded.

"Sure. There's a practice room just down the next hall. If you'll excuse us, ladies, gents, other royalty." They parted like the red sea, giggling and whispering as they walked off alone. Misto sighed and rubbed his arm. He didn't think of Tugger that way. They entered the little room, and Tugger quickly drew the curtains. "Now, if this is a confession-"

"It's a thank you," Misto cut in, rolling his eyes. "For last Friday. I'm not going to throw myself at you like your little gaggle of consorts does, my friend."

"Oh, well you didn't have to thank me," Tugger said nervously. Misto took a deep breath in and held out the little bag. He waved at Tugger to open it, and unwrap one of the cookies. It was one with Ripper on it. Tugger looked at it as if it were the most delicate thing in the world, and back up at Misto. "Oh my god, this is the best thing I've ever gotten. Jesus Christ, you even got his little toe beans in, its so cute!"

"There's a few tuxedo cats as well, but that's just my favourite kind of cat," Misto said nervously. "So thank you, for helping protect me during the trial. I don't think I could have gone back in alone. I mean, I know Victoria was there, but I also mean thanks for carrying me upstairs when I was asleep. Unless it really was Munkustrap?"

"Nah, it was me," Tugger said. He took a tentative bite of the cookie, and his eyes widened comically. "Are feese choc'at chib?"

Misto nodded and laughed at his face. Tugger quickly scarfed down the cookie and carefully placed the rest in his bag, safely storing them in a hidden pocket. He patted it softly, making sure they wouldn't be crushed at odd angles. 

"See ya, Tugger," Misto said amicably. "I have jazz class now, so I'd best go."

"See ya," Tugger echoed, watching him leave with a strange dreamy glaze in his eyes. Misto walked off, ignoring the gazes of the fan club that had clustered at the door. They let him pass, but whispers started up as he turned the corner. Rolling his eyes, he went to get ready to dance.

-*-*-

He wasn't sure how well he'd do in hip-hop Jazz fusion, but if the praise that the teacher slathered on him was indicator, he'd say he was doing just fine. She'd corrected some of his stretched feet into flexed, which had felt very wrong at first. Ballet was so deeply ingrained in his dancing the transition was strange. Madam Lucy was a treasure to learn from. Her teaching style was rather... Unique.

"Once we've learned this dance, we'll record it for the school Facebook," she trilled, flitting about like a hummingbird in her bright dance clothes. "Yes, Misto, pop your hips just like that! Bombalurina, those body rolls have really improved since I saw you last!"

Misto tried once again to perfect the combo, but as he stepped onto his pointed foot, he slipped. The lack of sleep from last night tired him out, and he landed on his bandaged hands. He winced, and his head spun slightly. As people turned to stare, he scrambled up and brushed himself off. With his sore hands. Dear God, was he always such a disaster? This was so childish of him, he was here to dance with professionals, not slack off and trip about. The teacher hurried over, looking him over.

"Are you alright, dear?" She fussed, holding his hands and thumbing the plasters. She lifted his head to reveal the plaster sat there as well. "Been in the wars, have we?"

"Sorry, Ma'am, I'll try to improve," he said, drawing away, getting into position again. He couldn't mess up on his first lesson. He had to do this well, Bombalurina had vouched for him herself at the tryouts. He began again, this time getting it perfect, while smiling and doing what all dancers did best; hiding the tiredness in his limbs. He went through it twice over, until he found that he had it perfectly memorised. Glancing over at Bombalurina, he found her watching him closely. She looked away evenly, aware that she'd been caught staring but not bothered by it. He brushed it off and moved onto the next combination.

The lesson drew to a close and Misto swallowed water from his bottle greedily. Why did lemon make it taste fresher? Why was it such elixer to his heavy body? Why did he feel like he was being watched? The last question was answered when he turned around to glance at suspects. Bombalurina looked him dead in the eyes and stalked over. Misto stood up to greet her, but she shut him up with a finger to his lips.

"Stay up late again, and you will struggle more," she said, not unkindly. "I don't care what it was for. Just don't do it again, understood?"

Misto nodded, and went to get changed. He really didn't mind the criticism; it would help him in the long run. As he changed, he wondered if he could simply go straight to bed that night. He was exhausted to his bones, and it was like the relief of tension all at once. His body sagged into a hunched posture, and he didn't bother trying to keep up airs and graces when getting to the car. He handed the keys to Victoria when she got there, grumbling about needing a nap. She sympathetically patted his head and started the car.

At home, he went straight to bed. Who needs food when they have sleep? Not him.

-*-*-

He missed breakfast the next day, and lunch too. He was so busy practicing to get his leaps to perfection, he didn't notice the passing of time until a bell rang to signal the end of the last lesson. He forwent dinner in favour of starting to read the books Stolas gave him, and practiced a really easy looking spell. It caused him to elongate his bed by a foot on accident, but that could have been far worse. Just even more space for him to stretch out in.

He didn't eat breakfast the next day either, running late to school. He managed to eat an apple at lunch, too queasy for a proper meal. Victoria frowned when she noticed but didn't say anything. Eventually he found his way around without consulting a map. He was so proud of the fact that that night he eagerly poured over more texts, trying to conjure gravel from one side of the room to the other. He instead made it catch on fire. Maybe more work was needed.

By lunch the next day, he was faint, and unsure why. He had no more lessons that day, but all of a sudden he was face up on the floor, and blinking awake. His sister was at his head, holding his head in her lap. He grinned at her.

"You know, fainting isn't as romantic in real life as it is in the novels," he claimed. She hit him. "Sorry. Guess that joke was a pass-out?"

"When have you last eaten a proper meal?" She groaned, helping him sit up. The cafeteria was mostly empty, but several students had come over to see what had happened. He blushed as he noticed them, opting to just talk once they were alone. "I know times you've been... Worse."

They didn't mention that those times were Macavity punishing him.

"I think two days ago? Maybe three?" He winced, "I've been so busy."

"Tonight you are eating a full meal," she insisted. Misto nodded along to make her feel better, and resolved to try to get better. It was eating, how hard could it be?

That night, on the sofa, the television playing static, he realised that he actually wanted to get better. It felt good to have eaten, and being content was so much more enjoyable than whatever he'd been when with his ex. Full, and feeling safe with the restraining order, he dragged himself to bed. Life was looking up.

-*-*-

Rum Tum Tugger scratched Ripper's chin, listening to the engine-rumble of his kitty cat's purr. In one hand he held a tuxedo cat cookie, turning it over with an indescribable look on his face. Ripper mewled and pushed his way into Tugger's lap, settling there as a nuisance and a pest. He didn't mind though. Ripper was just affectionate. Unlike a certain guy.

Rum Tum Tugger did not get people so flat out saying they weren't interested, unless they were ace, Aro or just didn't swing his way. He respected that, just as he wasn't attracted to everyone he'd ever met. He bit into the cookie, trying to not spill crumbs anywhere. There was a knock at his door, and Munkustrap poked his head in.

"Dad says it's time to head to bed, if you want. Hey, are those cookies?" Before his brother could put his grubby paws on the cookies, Tugger slapped his hand away. "Ouch! What was that for!?"

"These were made as a thank you," he sniffed, acting high and mighty in the way that made his brother irritated. Munkustrap rolled his eyes and left him alone with Ripper. Scratching the plump cat's belly, Tugger frowned at the wall. Huh. His Prince poster had fallen down. Throwing the absolute unit that was Ripper onto his bed, he re-hung it on his wall, smoothing the edges. Nice. Throwing his jacket to the floor, Tugger climbed in beside Ripper and threw a shoe at his light switch to turn it off. Bang, click, darkness. Nice. 

Lights off, he began to drift away, comforting weight of his cat an anchor to the here and now. He didn't want to think too hard into this. After all, they were just friends, and if little Misto didn't see him that way, like he didn't see him that way, then all was perfect. He slumbered, and outside rain began to fall softly. White noise slowly filled the room. 

Ripper looked at his owner, curled up in a too big bed, and meowed softly. Nothing would happen to his human now. He was safe under the watchful gaze of the maine coon, a cat so large that he was called a 'Master of Chonk'. He didn't know what it meant, but Tugger called him that, so it was clearly a good thing. 

The cat thudded to the floor and went on a nightly patrol. Old Deuteronomy slipped him some treats as usual. Munkustrap offered him a scratch behind the ears. Then the man who's been turning up outside gave him an anchovy. The man was tall and ginger, and Ripper wasn't sure whether to trust him just yet. He took the anchovy and went back inside, to report it.

Unfortunately, Tugger was the only one who understood him. And Tugger was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yeah I love you all dearly again here's my email I love you all
> 
> Chloevanwyk06@gmail.com 
> 
> Remember I charge per insult you send in


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I've got something serious to say, so please read the notes at the end.

"Hey, Victoria? I need to tell you something," Misto said, awkwardly standing outside the lounge door. Alonzo, Tumblebrutus and Bombalurina were over, and currently screaming at a demolition show on the television. Victoria extracted herself from the pile of limbs. Once they were alone, she fixed him with the 'if-its-a-problem-best-beware-my-tendencies-to-care-about-you' look that most sisters tend to have. Most. "So it's an issue about my uh... Sparkles."

"Okay, first of all we need a new code name for that," She groaned. "Secondly, what is it? Do we need to get you something? Have you accidentally conjured a dead rat again? If it's the last one, I swear to god, I will-"

"It's not a rat!" Misto whined. It seemed he only conjured things when he didn't want to. And it was always either roadkill or a rock. "I may have... Stumbled into a secret chamber at uni and accidentally summoned a demon who gave me books to learn from and seems pretty nice but still it is Stolas so I really don't feel like trusting them is okay. Not only this but I'm now actively practicing magic and I think you should know if something bad happens."

Victoria stared at him in silence for a moment, before nodding, completely serious.

"Okay. But you still need to show me some tricks," She warned. "I want to know what each spell or magic thing does before you go ahead and use it. You can never, ever, practice anything dangerous alone. I'm not losing you too."

The kitchen felt very quiet then. Misto nodded, and held out his pinky finger. She held out hers and intertwined them. Pinky promise sealed, he let her go back to her friends and trundled off upstairs. He could finally work on some theory homework. He tried to hang out with her friends, but he never felt comfortable. It was like wearing a shoe on the wrong foot. He barely hung about with them outside of lessons, preferring to blend in with the shadows and leave them be. He only really got involved when asked to. Except for a certain trio.

Mungojerrie, Rumpleteazer and Rum Tum Tugger were mischievous. Well, the twins were. Tugger just liked watching things unfold and being a 'mastermind'. They had seemingly adopted Misto, inducting him into the group. He was so small and unnoticeable he made for a brilliant sneak, laying traps for pranks. He was a teachers pet, and acted like a little angel when eyes were upon him. He'd perfected the 'butter-wouldn't-melt' look. Sometimes the best pranks were the ones where that all had alibis. Misto grinned, and decided against doing homework. He picked up his phone, and turned to their little groupchat.

Mungoteazer: oh good he's online. Misto, we need ur help. Were gonna need you to distract Mistress Babette for like ten minuets. goid?

Rumplejerrie: we are gonna put all of her stuff in the room two inches to the left

Rumplejerrie: and then were gonna put glitter on the circling fans.

MistyWisty: guys what room I really don't want glitter on my leotard guys please its black you guys

RmTmTggr: nah its room 4. But can you keep her in room 2 for a few mins.

MistyWisty: ye OK. My reward?

RmTmTggr: idk satisfaction bro

Mungoteazer: Mungojerrie will buy you lunch.

Rumplejerrie: wut

Mungoteazer: shut up we share accounts bro

Rumplejerrie: ye alright then. For the love of God, just don't order salad. Can't have that taint my record

MistyWisty: won't ask but OK. When we doin it?

RmTmTggr: tmmrw at 9 am. Lads, let's get this bread

MistyWisty: old memes are a big oof but a solid mood so forgiven.

RmTmTggr: shut up ur like 12

Mungoteazer: shut up ur like 12

Rumplejerrie: shut up ur like 12

MistyWisty: >:3{

He left the groupchat in high spirits to scroll about on twitter. Apparently Plato was crying in a corner over a spilled glass of milk. He sent an 'f' and continued. Apparently Admetus was trying to get off a roof that he didn't know how he got onto. An average day for the feral goblin friend. Nothing interesting was happening at all. God, could anything entertain him? He opened up YouTube, and tried watching anything with a vaguely interesting title. Closing YouTube, he tried opening Facebook. Absolutely nothing.

It took all his willpower to not scream. He rolled off his bed and onto the floor with a satisfying clunky thud. Now on his back, he tried doing some stretches. How far could he put his legs apart? He needed to know. This sidetracked into him opening and closing his legs at different heights while muttering descriptions to himself.

Full split to the sides; "When he says he can fit a whole bag of jellybeans up his ass." 

Legs closed and twisted around each other; "He says he's not racist BUT!"

Legs midway open: "The gays who can't sit properly... Oh wait that's me."

This kept him fairly amused until Demeter coughed from behind his door. He swung around so he looked as casual as possible while on the floor, face red from being upside down and laughing. She entered and stared at him suspiciously.

"You want sushi, best come down," she said. "We ordered like twenty minutes ago. Vic said she got you extra?"

"She knows that sushi is my favourite," he said wanly, trying to seem as aloof and vague as always. She rolled her eyes and walked off. Misto followed after her, enticed by food. Victoria asked him what the thud had been earlier, and he merely shrugged and gave her a sweet innocent look. She did not buy it.

-*-*-

Clearly, the prank was successful. He'd managed to distract Mistress Babette, and once he'd left her alone she didn't enter the room for another hour. Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie were scrubbing glitter from the crevices in their hands, and Rum Tum Tugger was keeping an eye on the live feed from the security cameras. They all settled into place as Mistress Babette walked in. The lights were off, and she immediately walked into a small table she used mostly for balancing cups of coffee on. Her mouth moved, but the word was so faint that the microphone didn't catch it.

It didn't take a genius to figure out it was 'fuck'. 

She flicked on the lights, and then switched on the fan overhead. It swung slowly once, twice, the first dredges of glitter falling. A look of horror crossed her face moments too late as avalanches of bright yellow glitter began to gracefully thwop into the air. It was well known that Mistress Babette hated the colour yellow. Tugger grinned and held out a bowl of popcorn. Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie grinned and began whispering on how to improve for 'next time'. Misto just watched the last of the shining dust sway to the floor, entranced. It was a bit mean, but he actually thought maybe Mistress Babette deserved it (a tiny bit) for her weird religious thoughts on his name.

Once the carnage slowed and stopped, they erupted into cheers. Success once again. Tugger scrubbed the footage of the prank, and they all turned to leave the little camera room, feeling pretty pleased that all had gone so well. As they left, the main trio started chatting loudly and amicably, Misto happy to be quiet and just listen. He didn't speak up at all until Rumpleteazer turned on him.

"Man, if I'd known how long you could have kept her distracted I would've relaxed a bit," she joked, stretching. "How did you do it?"

"Oh, uh I, I," he blushed deeply. "I just told her I wanted to congratulate her on managing to teach me so well. I just got her to talk about herself."

"Holy. Hell." Mungojerrie said, leaning back and grinning at the ceiling as they walked. "I knew she was self centered, but for half an hour?"

"I learned things," Misto deadpanned.

"Ha! At least you didn't have to distract Skimbleshanks whilst the twins glued foam onto his and Jennyanydots' tap shoes. I nearly died," Tugger sighed with a smile. "I'm glad you joined our group, Misto. No one ever suspects you for anything."

Misto only nodded in agreement, deep in thought. Slowly he began to lag behind a little, following a few steps back as his mind wondered and they discussed the pros and cons of replacing the cream in Mr Bustopher Jones' oreos with mash potato. Or better yet, mayonnaise. He began to turn the corner after them, when a voice from the other end of the corridor stopped him.

"You!" Screamed Mistress Babette. Behind her, a trail of yellow glitter and a startled looking Jellylorum. She began to stalk over to him, and he flinched away from her as she thundered in front of him. "What childish, irresponsible, foolish stupidity was that? I knew from the moment you entered my class you had bad blood, your name a mark of the devil! To think it funny, let alone acceptable for someone studying the high art of ballet under my tutelage is despicable! A disgrace!"

Misto opened his mouth to play dumb, but all that came out were a few whimpers and tears. She took this sign of weakness and went with it, shouting until the words blurred in his ears and he found himself back with Macavity. Childish, childish, childish. He'd never grow up at this rate, not while acting so young. He had to be mature, he was nineteen now. Old enough to drive, to drink, to say yes. He slipped further back into his mind, back to the fear filled time alone.

And then a tall body stepped out in front of him and cut his gaze away. He was staring at the back of a leather jacket, covered with paint stripes and scratches. Tugger looked at him softly, then jerked his head to the twins with a clear message. Get help. They nodded and scampered off, whispering to each other. A small crowd had formed. Some people had their phone out, texting or recording for Snapchat posts. Tugger gave them disapproving looks and very quickly they began to disperse. Tugger ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it, looking for all the world like a bystander who just happened to think the situation overblown.

"Mistress Babette, clearly Misto here has no idea what you're accusing him of. Surely you could explain before going to derogatory language?" He inquired, checking his nails. They were perfectly painted a deep obsidian. "So please. Take it from the top."

"Well, this morning I was waylaid by that scoundrel whilst on my way to my classroom. He deceived me, and encouraged me to talk for half of an hour! Then, I had to run off to the staffroom, and when I came back an hour later, the lights were off in room four. Everything was moved slightly, and when I turned on the fan to cool it down for my next class, yellow glitter poured from them. I knew it had to be the sneak who had tried to encourage my pride earlier," she sniffed. Jellylorum put her face in her hands. Tugger nodded slowly. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He hummed. Misto felt so afraid that the blame would be thrown on him then and there, he started to shiver. 

"Yes, well, that could have been anyone," he countered. Misto stared up at Tugger in disbelief. Holy mackerel. Had he just...? "It was an hour between your talk, and I know he wasn't anywhere near the room because he was with Mungojerrie, Rumpleteazer and I in the art department, whilst I practiced sketches. I even have proof."

Tugger dug out a notebook and proudly showed of drawings of the twins, each in different poses, and captured stunningly. Misto has never felt so grateful to Tugger in his life, even after the courtroom ordeal. Mistress Babette traced them with a finger softly, narrowing her eyes. Misto put on his best 'startled-but-innocent' face and compressed his stance onto something even more timid.

"Well that, that still doesn't mean he isn't a nasty piece of work," she declared with a harrumph. Tugged gave her a passive aggressive smile. She stalked off, trailing more glitter. She looked too ridiculous for any Intimidation tactics to work. Jellylorum rolled her eyes and followed after her.

At that moment, Victoria came hurtling down the hall from the opposite end, the twins huffing and panting as they tried to keep up behind her. She gathered up her brother in her arms, glowering as Mistress Babette turned the corner. She sent the vilest glare at the pompous teacher. Turning to Misto, she checked him over, head to toe. Seeing nothing, she hugged him tight. He took a few moments to actually respond and hug her back.

"Thanks," he croaked at Tugger. Tugger shrugged and smiled lazily. "Could'a just left me, but you didn't. So thanks."

"Oh, I swear on god that I will slaughter her," hissed Victoria. "I will kill her with nothing but a grande jeté and knives on my pointe shoes."

"Can't afford new ones," Misto said as they untangled. She frowned but nodded. Before she could suggest anything more vicious, he kept talking. "Anyway, at least I had people to back me up for once. Anything I can do as a thanks?"

Tugger nodded, eagerly leaning forward and grabbing his hands. His eyes shone, Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie snickering in the background, and he nearly purred in excitement. They clearly knew what was coming, having been subject to this themselves. 

"We need a model for next week Thursday at one o'clock until five. You free?" Misto smiled back, slightly confused but happy to help.

"Sure? Any clothing requirements?"

"I'll text them to you," Tugger said, and Misto felt as if he'd just become slightly closer. His magic recategorised him from 'casual acquaintance' to 'proper friend'. Matter settled, he went off with his sister, day slightly more colourful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. Serious business.
> 
> I ordered a camera online for school. I need this camera for my Photography course, which will get me a higher recommendation for lighting and theatre photography work, my dream career. So far, so good, right? 
> 
> Apparently I need to pay customs on it. That would be fine, but I'm not payed until the end of the month, and they will send it back to the seller in about five days. As you can tell; not good. I worked for over 3 months to afford that camera in the first place. I earn minimum wage for my age; £4.35.
> 
> So I'm doing this. If you have any cash to spare, even a few pence, I'd be eternally grateful. I will add your OC into this fic, I will write you a commissioned fanfic or creative writing piece. I will do mostly anything. I need a total of £22 to pay for my camera. 
> 
> chloevanwyk06@gmail.com is my paypal. 
> 
> If you don't want to donate that's perfectly fine, I would never presume that you'd feel obligated to pay. But if you do have any spare money (ignore the irony of the idea of 'spare' money in this economy), I will happily do some work for you. Thank you so much, you are all the most perfect readers and I could never find myself more lucky. Thank you again. I love you!
> 
> BIG UPDATE; I MADE THE MONEY DUE TO SOME KIND DONATIONS! YOU DON'T NEED TO DONATE ANYTHING I HAVE ENOUGH NOW! THANK YOU ALL YOU ARE THE BEST READERS EVER!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I want to say how grateful I am that you guys gave such support on my last chapter. This is an update on the situation;
> 
> Thanks to your quick and incredibly kind donations, I am now able to afford my camera! I can get it now, and it will be delivered by tomorrow! I want to thank you all for the positive feedback. So here's a cheeky chapter to say thanks!

Stolas stared at him as he attempted to conjure a rose from thin air. They were eating popcorn on a conjured throne, leaning back. Misto gritted his teeth and with a shower of purple sparks the flower appeared in his hand. It was missing a few petals, but all in all looked rather good anyway. On the first try as well, only taking him a few seconds. Even accidental surges took him around five minutes to fully appear. Except for the dead rat. He didn't like to think of that incident. 

"Lit. So you can do basic conjuration, that's good. With that, you can learn way more complex stuff," the demon said, snatching the rose from him and affixing it in his feathers. "Did you try anyfing else?" 

"I did some illusion practice," Misto said, a little disappointed his hard work was not as appreciated. Stolas waved at him, so he sighed and wove the basic image the book had coached him to. Slowly, mists began to seep from his hands, coalescing into an unstable form. Its grew steadier, steadier still, and Stolas perked up as it took its final form. 

A shiny golden ballerina twirled around his palm, tutu shining. She bowed and disappeared. Stolas clapped slowly. 

"That was impressive, luv. But keep an eye on the lighting, real life doesn't really do it for you. You gotta focus on the placement of the shine yourself, it's just Mist, innit," they said, patting his shoulder. He beamed at the praise. "Gotta bounce. See you next week, hun." 

Misto watched them leave and smiled. This was actually... Fun. Magic didn't feel so wrong anymore, and he could actually feel it flow naturally. Stolas warned him that if he used too much he could feel one of three side effects, but he had yet to reach those limits.

One way was to lose feeling in his arms, for days at a time, unable to move them. 

The second was to lose his sight for up to a week. 

The final way was the figurative best. In this, he'd merely be unable to cast anything but minor illusions and not conjure anything at all for up to two weeks. 

He hoped he never needed to find out how any of them felt. 

-*-*-

Due to hardly ever being near the Art department, it felt like an alternate universe when he stepped into the portrait covered walls. There were so many paintings, drawings and collages on the walls that they overlapped, and everywhere he looked, more colour seeped in. It smelled vaguely of pencil wood and paint, of desperation and triumph, of effort and lazy enjoyment. Misto reached out to skim a hand over a marble bust gingerly. The random man made of marble felt soft and cold, and he traced the eyes, entranced.

He stared at a painting of two vaguely familiar people. He'd seen them, long ago, at the theatre on that night. Here they were, staring out through oil paint and canvas, drilling into him even now. They had the same haircut and same face, so he supposed they were also twins. He stared at it further, marvelling at how they seemed to be moving even as a captured image. 

He needed to keep moving. The bag holding his outfit was heavy on his shoulder as he made his way toward the end of the corridor. He pushed open the door to the studio quietly, entering into the dark space with little noise. The only person inside was a teacher he'd never met before. Misto cleared his throat, looking at the ground awkwardly. The teacher, upon noticing, made a happy sound and fiddled with her paintbrush and easel earrings. 

"Ah! The student model!" She cooed, guiding him towards a warm spot under a soft light. "I assume Tugger sent you the messages for clothing?" He nodded, and pulled everything out. Rich fabrics pooled at his feet, and he hoped she wouldn't comment on the fact they were hemmed up curtains. She instead looked very pleased, and sat him on the table. She began to bustle about again, setting up the paper and stools, adjusting the lights and turning up the heat a little bit. 

"Is there any pose I should take?" Nervously he asked. She shrugged, and handed him the fabrics. "Oh. So I guess I'll just... Do my thing."

He threw his shirt off to the side, slightly uncomfortable in just a plain white long sleeved undershirt, and pulled the fabrics around him into a sort of cocoon. On second thought, he fashioned them into a sort of cloak, fastening them with a pin provided by the teacher. He kept one arm out, showing off his shoulder and neck, settling into a seated position, leaning on his arm and pointing his feet. His ballet pumps were cleaned specially for today, and they shone in the light. He rested there for several moments, ready to be comfortable for several hours. He settled into more of a slouch on the table, and stopped leaning on his arm. Much better. The door opened and several students started to come in. He shivered as the cool outside invaded the warmth of the room.

He kept an eye of for Rum Tum Tugger, and marginally relaxed when he sat directly in front of him. He kept up eye contact, smiling anxiously. Once everyone was settled, the teacher started a timer and pencils met a3 paper or card. The lesson was to see how fast each person could complete a subject in their own style, either entirely pencil or with paints. Misto kept himself still as possible, watching everything from the corner of his eyes. Tugger glanced over, occasionally raising an eyebrow as if asking if he was doing okay. He shrugged and nodded slightly each time, trying not to shift the fabric.

When the paints were brought out, he couldn't help but feel awed at some of the choices. Some people were using blacks and golds of the curtains, but others were bringing out purples and electric teals and all manners of colours. He spotted someone carrying green and wondered how art students worked, not for the first time. He nearly fell asleep twice, so warm and comfortable he barely caught himself as his head drooped. He lost himself in the sound of paintbrushes on paper, the swrishing noise of pencils being sharpened. Some people finished within two hours; others were determined to use up all four to make their masterpiece. 

All too soon the lesson was over. He blinked slowly as all of the lights were turned on, and stretched. His back crackled like a glow stick, and several students shot him terrified looks. He hopped down from the table, trailing fabric as he reached over for his shirt. He pulled it on, then unclasped the curtains from below it before sliding in his second arm. He texted his sister and checked his social media for any updates. All was well. Rolling up the heavy velveteen, he heard the teacher talk to the group.

"Now, let's all see what you've done. Okay, okay, I'm liking what I see. That pencil work is getting fabulous, Pouncival! Experimental colours, just what we need! Oh, and dear Mr Tugger! That's your best work of a still subject in paint yet!" She exclaimed, and Misto turned around to look at the painting. His jaw dropped. 

The first detail he noticed was the folds in the fabric. Each fold was detailed with the utmost care, every ruffle of gold and black edged perfectly together. His skin was glowing, and looking down at his actual skin, he was surprised it wasn't lit from beneath like the portrait suggested. His skin actually looked a little pale and sickly, though he supposed a few years ago it had been just as rich, when he'd played outside and actually took care of himself. His face was slightly downturned, shadows not obscuring his eyes but highlighting the bright blue of his left eye and deep green of his other. His lips were chewed even in the painting, and he touched them to see how bad they were. He watched the way his dark hair seemed so bouncy in the portrait. He was very sure he needed to brush it, but the painting made it look far better than he'd ever imagined. 

He looked... Beautiful. Almost like an angel. Like the paintings of Icarus he and his sister had laughed at in the Greek museum of their old home. 

"God damn, I look pretty," he marveled under his breath. The teacher whipped her head around to see him admiring the works in the room. Gently feeling his own face and frowning at the pictures, trying to equate what he saw with what he thought he knew. An idea lit up her face. 

"What do you think of each piece?" The teacher asked. "As a non art student, you don't have to be technical, but give your honest opinion."

There were roughly six works in the room, including Tugger's. He looked over each one, entranced with the way that had put him on paper. He thought carefully. He didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings, and they were all so good, he felt bad about his drawings he did for fun. 

"I wasn't sure about the colours when I first saw them being taken out," he said carefully, eyes roaming the first picture. The girl looked exhausted. "but now I see them in full, I think they're beautiful. I really like how you captured my shoulder and neck, with the light bouncing off of them." She grinned and he moved on. He saw her mark his words down on her phone. 

"I like the way the pencil brings out the feeling of colours, even in black and white," he remarked. "You can tell that my eyes are different colours." The boy looked down at his paper, and back again. He nodded.

"This one is probably the most attractive as my face doesn't exist," Misto said, dry in tone. Some of the students giggled. Good, he was appealing to their senses of humour. "If I saw it in a gallery, I'd definitely feel intrigued at the mystery." The girl behind it gave him a blank stare, then shrugged and grinned widely. The change was sudden. But she seemed happy with his words nonetheless. 

"THIS is another one I was scared for when I saw lime green being used, but I'll admit, it does enhance the view, giving it a focal point on my face," he said about the fourth. The girl looked at him, then held a thumbs up. He really hoped those were the right words. She had given him pink hair and green skin, so he couldn't really say much. 

"I am very fond of the use of glitter," he said, "and this painting really uses it to the perfect amount. Did you give me blue highlighter with glitter? That's awesome." The boy smirked, and held up a glitter covered hand for a high five. Misto gave him one, and resigned himself to having multicoloured glitter over his black jeans forever.

"Tugger. I don't know what to say," he started, peering at the painting. "It looks like you took me, made me twice, no, quadruple as attractive and gave me sunlight under my skin. I don't know what you saw there, but if that's how the lighting made me look, I'm sorry for deceiving you." The room giggled again, and people began filing out, leaving their paintings on the easels or on racks to dry. Eventually he was left alone with Tugger, who seemed to be waiting for him.

"I know what you said back there was bull," he said matter-of-factly. "What do you really think? How could I improve this?"

Misto looked over the picture again. He noted every brushstroke and every painstaking detail. He looked at the cloak of fabric that swallowed him. Swallowing, he pointed to the bottom and smiled weakly.

"Uh, I have no feet. Bit hard to be a dancer like that," he tried. "But really, Tugger, I can't fault it. It just doesn't look like me is all. I know it doesn't, because I see my face everyday, and it's never looked so... Ethereal."

Tugger looked appalled.

"I am appalled!" he cried, holding a hand to his forehead as if he were a fainting dame in an old film. Misto snorted as he continued the theatrics. "You look just like you did on that table, or I am no artist! I should call myself a fraud should you claim that my works are not factual."

"No, what I meant was," Misto giggled, picking up his bag as Tugger gathered his stuff. "What I meant was-"

"No, it's fine, I was a fool to think I could ever be a painter," Tugger said, walking out and holding open the door for him. "Look at this, the subject saying it looks unlike him!"

"Oh shut up," Misto grinned, trying to bump his hip with Tugger's. He managed it, even if he had to jump. Tugger laughed, and they left the building. Victoria and Demeter had already driven home at three, and Misto was left to catch the bus or walk. He chose to walk, waving goodbye to Tugger and setting off at a jaunty pace. The breeze was fresh, and the lingering warmth of the afternoon was enough to keep him from feeling cold at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out to @drachen_katze, for their donation! They are one of the kindest people I know.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, just chilling
> 
> Sudden realisation that it's Saturday 
> 
> FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Walking this far, while alone, was an objective he'd been trying to get to for a while. It was a twenty minute drive, but a one hour walk back to Demeter's house. All went well. For the first thirty minutes.

He glanced over his shoulder, constantly worried about being followed. No one was there. Of course, it was quite late and most people were just leaving work. He was in a public space, and he was safe. Macavity couldn't come near him, with the restraining order. Macavity couldn't touch him directly.

Directly.

Oh no. Oh no no no no no. Macavity had a plethora of little henchpeople who'd happily come to get Misto for him. Suddenly every swish in the leaves was an attacker, and he jumped at each sound around him. He just needed to get home now. He took out his phone and rang Demeter's home phone. After three rings, it was picked up.

"Demeter's phone," said a male voice. It took a few moments to place it as Plato. "Who is this?"

"Plato, it would do me a great pleasure if you could pass the phone to my sister," rasped Misto, walking faster. There was a fumbling noise across the phone, before Plato answered.

"She and Demeter are out right now, grocery shopping. What do you need?" Plato sounded so earnest that Misto nearly smiled. He was happy his sister had found someone so genuinely sweet.

"Just keep talking. I'm on my way home, and I'm not feeling too safe all alone," he shivered. "I'm about twenty minutes away, fifteen if I hurry."

"Oh. Right dude, sure, what do you want to talk about?" Plato said, clearly unsure of what to do. "Like, the weather, or, or sports? I don't know anything about sports."

"Neither do I," Assured Misto.

"Well, Vic's saying that she's making a big dinner tonight and invited me over. She said she's gonna get garlic bread. I love garlic bread. She says we're gonna barbecue the hell out of some ribs and burgers, and like, I can't wait." Plato made a little happy noise. "She says we're gonna turn on the fairylights when it gets dark out. Do you like the fairylights we put up?"

"Yeah. I really like the blue setting," Misto answered, more relaxed. The walk went by quickly with Plato talking about anything and everything. 

When he finally got home, he thanked Plato and promptly went upstairs to flop on his bed and slow down his heart. Maybe he should have walked with someone else first.

Ten minutes after he arrived, Victoria and Demeter entered. Apparently Bombalurina was with them, if the flirtatious comments were anything to go by. He smiled into his pillow. God, when had he started to feel so much better? He rolled up to greet them, and stumbled down the stairs. He slipped a few steps from the bottom. He gave up on righting himself halfway through and let himself fall and slide down the stairs. Thank god for cushy carpeting, he vaguely thought as he lay on the floor. Victoria poked her head out to see the cause of the crash. Spotting him, she tried not to say anything as he rolled over and stood up, completely nonchalant about it all. Not at all accidental. 

"Quickest way down," he semi-explained, walking over. She rolled her eyes and went back to the kitchen. Inside, Demeter and Bombalurina were pouring out drinks.

"You want some wine?" Bombalurina asked. He shook his head and pulled out a can of cider. He drank for the taste, unable to stomach anything too bitter. "Your loss. Hurry up though, the fire is getting started and we're all cooking everything to our own specifications."

He grinned, and stepped outside. The garden fence guarded it from the outside, and he was pleased to note that his weeding has helped the flowerbed to bloom. The air was sweet with honeysuckle and smoke, and his heart was filled with safety and home. He wanted this moment to last forever, and to never corrode. His magic seemed to agree, and the swaying of the grass lulled him into a half awake sensation.

He was getting better. Everyone had setbacks

-*-*-

"One, two, three and, four and," Mistress Babette called out, watching them perform the routine again flawlessly. Well, mostly flawlessly. Etcetera was struggling with a small sector of the combination, and the mistake cost her a second of timing to be off. She bumped into Alonzo, who in turn fell down, and giggled a little helplessly. "No, no, no! You two, sit out. Watch the rest of the class, and try to get everything fixed. This dance is part of your grade!"

Etcetera mumbled a vague apology and helped Alonzo up. They stood at the front, looking slightly chagrinned. Mistress Babette counted the class in again, and they began to perform. Soralia, evidently terrified of being singled out, danced with forced fluidity. Exotica kept her head up, trying not to fault on any step. James, when it came to the lifts, kept his arms as stable as possible, despite knowing he had trouble with holding anything heavier than a sack of flour. Misto got ready to lift Exotica, and reached the same issues as the duo had had for weeks now.

Misto was too short to lift her properly. He was supposed to grab her waist and underarm, and lift her into a spin. Unfortunately, what usually happened was Exotica trailing her legs on the floor even as he lifted her to the correct positioning. She was nearly six foot two; he was five foot five. Mistress Babette growled at this and stopped the dance once more.

"How do you expect to lift your partner if you can't get her properly off the ground? I pity your future wife," she grumbled. "Imagine not being able to be carried over the threshold by her husband."

"Mistress Babette, I'm gay," Misto said calmly, tilting his head to the left. "Trust me, I'm the one being carried over the threshold. I am making sure of it."

Mistress Babette rolled her eyes and continued the lesson. However, she did pair him up with Etcetera afterwards, who was shorter: at only five foot eight, he could easily hold her up high enough. The lesson soon finished, and quietly Alonzo handed him a little black pin with a rainbow lettered inscription. 'Are You Blind When You're Born?' stared up at him, a pair of little cat eyes below it.

"Just so you know, we all have badges so we can see each other," Alonzo said, holding his out. His inscription was blended in the bisexual and nonbinary flags. "So uh. Any pronouns we need to worry about? Mine are he and they, but I really don't mind either."

"Just he and him," Misto grinned, pinning the badge on his bag strap. "I'll keep an eye out."

-*-*-

Now that he had the little badge, he noticed more and more people who had them. He noticed some with a different inscription in pride colours, with different animals below them. He noticed roughly five variants.

His was one with a cat, and the message 'Are You Blind When You're Born?'. There was one with a small Chinese dog, with the word "Yap" in pride colours. There was one that flat out stated 'Bark' and came in simple flat colour variants. The other two said 'Poms' and 'Pugs', with the same seeming options of colours. The badges intrigued him to no end. What did they mean? He resolved to simply ask Demeter once home.

So that night, at dinner, he put the badge in the table and slid it over to her.

"What do these mean? Alonzo gave me this one, but I've seen other variants." Demeter gave him a look of surprise, before shrugging.

"Ever heard of a Jellicle, Pollicle or Peke?" Misto nodded, curious. "Good. Well, they're the main three 'gangs' around here. Poms and Pugs don't usually get involved, but some find it funny to ally with a side for giggles at some points. That badge marks you as a Jellicle. I'm a Jellicle, as are most people at Junque. It's basically a gang name, but it isn't really much of a deal. Only Pekes and Pollicles get really into it, with 'turf' and separate shops that he other gang can't enter."

"Got threatened by a guy a few months back, saying he was a Pollicle," Misto said thoughtfully. "Pretty cool, aside from the whole 'get off my turf before I move you myself' vibe."

"Pollicles are just like that," Demeter agreed.

"I'm a Jellicle, too," Victoria shrugged. "It's basically just a big group of neighbourhood friends. Jennyanydots is a Jellicle too."

"Huh," Misto said. "Just confused on one thing. Is there a war going on currently? Cause the guy seemed ready to kill me."

Victoria and Demeter looked at each other sharply. They had a silent conversation, and Misto sighed. He loved being ignored.

"Shouldn't be," Demeter said slowly.

"I'll ask what's brewing," Victoria concurred, and a silent verdict was passed. Misto rolled his eyes and put more corn on his plate. "Any other news, my dearest, sweetest brother?"

"Nah. I got a partner switch cause I'm too short to hold Exotica," he shrugged. Victoria patted his arm in sarcastic sympathy. "Shut up. Just because you're five seven doesn't mean that I'm short."

"Its okay to be vertically challenged," She said softly. "But I do have some numbers to call if you feel like it'd really getting to you-"

A faceful of mash potato cut her off, and Demeter snickered. She quickly stopped when Victoria got her back with a sprig of broccoli. Misto got up, knowing exactly what was going to happen. He didn't try to run: he merely opened the fridge and pulled out several eggs, shutting it behind him. This was a true war. Demeter quickly threw a handful of corn, and it bounced onto the floor in a squishy yellowish heap. Misto nodded soberly and ran up behind his sister, cracking an egg over her and Demeter's head all at once.

They both teamed up after that, coming after him ferociously. There was laughter and screaming as the foodstuffs were flung about, eventually coming to a stop when Misto was wheezing in the floor. Somehow there was flour on the ceiling. An egg dripped down a wall and a carrot had rolled half under a cupboard. There was jam on the stove and ham on the chairs.

"Whoever started this has to clean it," Victoria quickly said, stepping away.

"That's the rules," Demeter quickly replied. She snapped a picture of a heavily drenched Misto, and walked out. "Help me find a good caption for this after we shower, would you Victoria?"

"Yep. Can do." Misto couldn't protest as they left, too tired to do anything but prop himself up. He groaned as he surveyed the damage. He'd best get started.

Three hours, two showers and four washes of his hair later, Misto collapsed on the couch, letting his damp hair drip onto his sister's lap. She didn't complain, too busy taking another picture of him as he frowned at her and posting it online. He tried to take her phone back to delete it, but the upload was already complete.

He quickly found the first picture as well.

'Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first ~ Ernestine Ulmer. Lol food fights be lit, one like = one clean up wipe for misto'

He looked a mess, jam in his hair, and whip cream on his neck. He'd managed to protect his face, but his clothes were hideously gross. There were peas on his shirt. They were SMUSHED into it. It was disgusting, but he was smiling, spread eagle on the messed up tiles. A mistake, but still a funny post. He took a peek at his sister's.

'rip to my dear sibling who is now dead on all accounts. drop an f lads, he needs it'

The picture at least had good lighting. Really highlighted his high cheekbones, not. Were his cheeks that chubby in real life? He peered closer. They were just squished up from leaning on the couch. Definitely. He did not have a squishy face. His eyes weren't even fully open, and he looked three milliseconds from sleeping. Ir wasn't a good picture, but Misto liked it. He looked so real, so... Human. Macavity had made him feel so bad he'd, on some days, forgotten to remember he was truly corporeal.

Damn.

He gave her phone back, and typed a response on his own account.

'mr.mistoffelees: they made me clean it all alone.'

'RmTmTggr_x: f'

'rumpleteasy: f'

'mungle-jeremy: f'

Sometimes he hated his friends. His snickered softly, and put his phone away. It was getting late, and he should really head off to bed. He wished his good night's and trundled off, collapsing in his sheets. Gazing at his bare walls, he frowned. He reminded himself to decorate the room with some glow in the dark stars. That could brighten it up. Sighing, he pulled up the counterpane and set up his alarm. Outside, a half moon dribbled through a crack in the curtains, and he was lulled to sleep as wind whistled in the trees.

Outside, a grin was illuminated by silver moonlight, cruel and vicious. Its owner turned and strolled away, to report to its boss. Macavity needed to know that nothing happened to his favourite little manipulation experiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY GUYS I FORGOT TO UPLOAD IT EARLIER AHHHHHHHH


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ha ha a new chapter for yall

"Got me looking so crazy in love," sang Victoria as she washed the dishes. The radio was slightly crackly, but it served well for the dish washing. Misto was beside her. He was having a quiet day, reclusive and unwilling to talk about it. She understood,she thought. He needed days were he didn't have to try or act. He needed days to relax. "Woah, woah, yeah!"

Misto finished drying the last item she gave him, putting it away quietly. He hadn't changed out of his pyjamas all day. He'd sat in his room, on his bed, staring at the wall. She hoped he wasn't spiralling downward. When they sat on the couch together to watch dumb shows on netflix he asked her a slightly rattling question. 

"It wasn't my fault, was it?" Came from behind a pillow clutched to his chest. "I didn't do anything to deserve it. Right?" 

"No," Victoria said firmly, holding his hand tightly. He nodded at that, and seemed a little less out of it. Good. Reflecting on ideas like that wasn't good for him. He fixated on the film they were watching, Bambi. He watched, eyes reflecting the pictures of the idyllic grove where the baby deer lived. They'd never watched it before, and she was eager to see what would happen. 

There was a gunshot. The cartoon deer scrambled. Bambi ran.

She wiped her eyes as the film continued. Oh god it was sad, why would Rumpleteazer suggest this? She turned to ask Misto his opinion and found him gone. She hadn't noticed him get up and leave. Almost guilty, she turned back to the film. Best not to bother him when he was like this.

Upstairs, Misto fiddled with a disk player. He slid in a CD he'd found in Demeter's bookcase. It had 'Bomba' on it in big red letters, so he supposed it was probably hers. He fiddled with the dials, turning everything this way and that before finally plugging in the device. It began to play a guitar, soon followed by drums and bass. He perked up when he heard Tugger's voice filter through. This must be a cover disk that the band had done a while back. Definitely before they found their style. Tugger's voice was smooth, and the instruments were on point. Misto lay on his back and listened quietly.

Once he finished that CD, he moved onto another. There were four CDs marked as the band's, and Misto felt tempted to give them distinctive little covers so he knew where they were at all times. He didn't though. He couldn't draw for the life of him.

His magic stirred hopefully as he turned up the music, itching to be used. He hadn't cast anything at all in a while now, not since Stolas last taught him. He flicked his wrist, and a coin appeared. Hopefully from his wallet, not anyone else's. He conjured it from hand to hand, watching the entrancing movements closely. He gave a smirk as it twinkled, and he sent it back to whence it came. It tempted him, sometimes, being a magician. He has the magic, and as far as anyone knew, it was just clever sleight of hand. He'd somehow astounded Alonzo the day before with a card trick that definitely would not have worked if he wasn't magical. The look on his face when he pulled the card from the middle of his art history book was enough to fuel his magic endeavours. Honestly, though younger than him, Alonzo really seemed mature, most of the time.

Sighing, Misto quelled the urge to do more and listened carefully to the song playing now. He was well into the second CD, called 'MungoJ'. It was bass heavy, and as he listened, his eyebrows rose. Seven Nation Army was destined to be a banger at any point, but somehow Tugger made it sound less like a fight song and more of a seductive melody.

Tugger was like that with everything though. His friend was voracious, flirting with anyone and everyone. He wore his bisexuality as not a label, but an explanation. Bombalurina often remarked that they were 'wlw' and 'mlm' solidarity. Misto grinned. His old university was accepting, but didn't like people talking too freely of how they felt. It was good to be somewhere that was so open.

Misto lay there for hours, listening to the music. He eventually came down at one thirty in the morning for food and water, and narrowly missed being caught by anyone. He finally went to bed, knowing that he had a lesson tomorrow. He had Jazz, and he found himself enjoying it more than he thought he would. They were going to film the dance the day after next, and spend today polishing every second to a shine. As he closed his eyes, he felt suddenly far more relaxed then he had in a few days.

-*-*-

"Yes, yes! Just like that, Misto!" Madam Lucy cooed, clapping. Misto breathed slightly heavily as he pulled into the final position. They were taking turns to each perform the dance alone, and he hoped his practicing was paying off. The music faded out, and his classmates clapped. He smiled briefly, before stepping to the side. "Beautiful. I think that's everyone, so we shall go into some cool downs. I'll see you tomorrow, make sure to eat and rest!"

The class chorused an affirmative, and settled into their respective cooldowns. Misto plugged in his earphones, listening to the CD's through his Walkman. He'd dug it out once he remembered about it, finding it beneath a pile of clothes in his wardrobe. He listened to it as he stretched out his legs, then arms, then torso. Rolling his neck, he stood up and wandered over to Bombalurina. She was stood alone, packing her bag. He patted her shoulder, and she turned around, slightly startled.

"Sorry. Just wanted to say that I really liked your cover of Valerie," he said nervously. She clicked her head to the side, confused.

"Where'd you hear it? YouTube?" She asked, not seeming too bothered by the sudden arrival. "Cause like, our newer stuff is better-"

"I found four CDs that had your old music on then and listened to them all last night," Misto said quickly. She gave him an undiscernable look. "I really liked them, and was wondering if there were more of them. If that's okay."

"Sure it's fine," Bomba said, laughing a little. "Are you a creepy fan now? Gonna stalk any of us on social media, ask for a clipping of Tugger's hair?" Misto made a face and she laughed.

"Stalkers are a big no no," he said firmly, rubbing at his arm. She winced and blushed, remembering his past with Macavity. "But has anyone actually asked for Tugger's hair?"

"Yep." Bomba shuddered. "Creepy people on the Internet, Misto. Do you know how often the twins are asked for certain pictures?"

They continued to talk, soon dropping the topic. They wandered out of the class together, both heading down to the canteen. As they walked, the bumped into the aforementioned Devils, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. They were snickering and running away from something, so clearly they'd set a trap. Misto watched then turn the corner, but said nothing as he continued to walk. As they turned the corner, he felt his leg catch on something near the ground. Looking up, he saw a bucket tilt over a clueless upper-class man, and did what any sane person would do.

He jumped, pushed the poor person out of the way, and was splattered by blue cream that felt uncomfortably too hot and too cold all at once. It dribbled down his hair and into his clothes, sticky and slimy all at once. He heard Bomba stifle laughter behind him and watched silently as the upper-class man stared at him, then the ceiling.

"Thanks," they said weakly. Misto nodded, stood up, and wiped the blue liquid from his face as best as he could. As much as he'd like to admire the ingenuity and engineering, he currently felt pretty mad inside. He could NOT get in the car like this. "Do you uh, need help?"

"I need a shovel and someone to help hide two bodies," Misto said blandly. The upper-class man nodded and made their way off, leaving him to get to his senses and continue walking. Bomba nearly asked him why he was continuing to the cafeteria, but decided against it. They sat at their table, Misto's sorry state garnering more than a fair few stares. He didn't speak all through lunch, just kept an eye out for when the twins would appear. He needed to get them back. This prank (though harmless) was a step too far and he was going to make them regret it.

It took Victoria all of three seconds after spotting him to become silently furious. She sat next to him and gave him the 'nod'. He shook his head slightly and she responded with a different nod. They'd start tonight. Eventually, the twins wandered in, chuckling and chattering. They took one look at the crusting cream on Misto and went ashy. They sat down awkwardly, and looked at him unnervingly. They spoke in a mix of synchronisation and completing each others sentences.

"Hey, Misto, let's start with an apology," they chorused.

"Uh, we planned that for someone we knew was going to be-" Mungojerrie.

"Well, not okay but better with the whole, getting clean aspect," Rumpleteazer winced.

"So we'd like to apologise."

"I am so sorry. I now realise how immature and-"

"Unfair this is. We realised soon after leaving that we'd affect multiple people-"

"But we didn't stop ourselves until too late. We cleaned up the halls for the janitor, of course."

"Yeah, blue cream isn't the best, we think that now," they finished, looking nervously at each other. Clearly they weren't used to apologising, or their pranks backfiring. Victoria looked slightly satisfied. She seemed to be reserving judgement for Misto's final word. He looked at them cooly, letting them sweat for a moment. Then he sighed.

"Luckily for you, I have an issue of forgiving people very easily," he smiled softly. They both loosened in posture. "But, this was definitely a prank for a non-public place. So for that, I think I'll just leave you to wonder when I'll get you back. It is not an if, but a when. Also, I'll let Victoria handle her fury on my part."

"You make it sound like I'm gonna kill them!" She whined. They looked very worried. "But yeah. Don't sleep for a while, gremlin twins."

They nodded very quickly, and Rumpleazer gingerly held out a blue towel. It had an elegant R embroidered on the corner. Misto took it, and thanked her. He made his way to the car and tucked it around the seat, and waited for the girls to get themselves together and leave. Half an hour later, they were home, and he was heading off to shower. He chucked the towel in the wash, lamenting the loss of softness. It was a strangely cushy towel, usually he couldn't stand the texture.

He mulled over his day in the shower, scrubbing at his hair. After four washes, the cream was fully out and his head felt fluffy even underwater. His soap smelled a little fruitier than he remembered... Oh, he'd accidentally used his sister's. Guess he'd have to smell like an artificial berry for a while. He stepped out, dried off and pulled on his pyjamas. All comfy, he wandered downstairs. He felt pretty tired, maybe he should go to sleep to prepare for tomorrow's performance and recording. It was...

Four thirty in the afternoon. Of course. The only time he felt tired, and it was too early for a good night's rest. He flopped on a couch and began channel surfing. He stopped on an office style drama, set in hell. It was pretty good, but he didn't like the main character. He kept scrolling through. Eventually Victoria wandered in and sat on him. As he struggled beneath her, she began to laugh. So that's how it was?

Their battle was legendary. As all siblings know, pillow fights could leave concussions, and his arms were definitely bruised by the time Demeter entered, asking what the hell was going on. Victoria paused, pillow half in the air. Misto moved his sheild from his face to stare at her. Vic, while looking Demeter dead in the eye, threw the pillow down. He groaned at the solid hit to his chest.

"Why..." Another pillow hit him, this time in the stomach. Victoria broke eye contact after this, settling on the couch delicately as if she'd done nothing. Misto wheezed and pulled himself up, crawling on the couch as well. He pulled the cushions up with him. All nine of them.

"Sure. Act all innocent. I JUST saw you throw those at your brother," Demeter sighed. "Can you two play nice for a night alone? I need to head out. Bomba and I are having a sleepover."

Victoria wolfwhistled, and Misto looked mortified for her. Demeter sighed, and left, but not before winking. As her car pulled away, the siblings found themselves alone. Victoria grinned, and before Misto could even think of what they should eat, he was hit in the face with a cushion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you all. So much.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This really is unlucky number 13.

Misto stared at Madam Lucy as she wove around her students. Apparently, for the recording, she wanted them all in show makeup, which meant arriving an hour early. They'd practiced a few times before, but after a makeup retouch, they'd be performing for an audience. Victoria sat at the front, along with Rum Tum Tugger, Munkustrap, Plato, Alonzo, Demeter and Etcetera. He rolled his eyes and set himself to daubing glitter on his face and tried to not sneeze. Bombalurina wandered over at one point, messing up his hair and spraying it into its new position firmly. He frowned.

"Okay, is everyone done?" Trilled their ever enthusiastic teacher. There was a resounding verbal agreement, and she fussed over the camera. "Audience, feel free to clap and cheer! We will be editing the music over it! Positions! Music in one, two, three and four and..."

Up first was Bombalurina. As the music began, she stared at the camera and rolled her hips, flinging her arms out in a roll over her head. She popped her hips twice, and the little crowd gave a little cheer. As the first verse got in, her partner came in, Cassandra grabbing her hips. She lifted her up, and she rolled over her shoulder. As she leant down, she leaned on Cassandra's back and rolled to the side. They continued, alone, until the chorus. The whole group entered then, in a perfect diamond shape. They all swayed, taking a step-ball-change left and right. They turned to the side, and in cannon gave a shoulder roll. Misto, at the end, flicked up his leg, and they moved out.

He was front and center, and knew that it was just like any other performance. All smile and glitter, sparkling, he began his bit. Starting with a drop spin and upwards kick, he ended up in a split, to audible admiration from the crowd. Swinging round, he rolled over and up, ending up standing, and went straight into a cartwheel. He spun to the camera and winked, rolling his spine. He swung his head side to side as his arms dragged up his body, ending in a spin and death drop. As he gracefully rose again, the chorus hit again, and they all began the main choreo again.

They each had a five second segment to showcase talents, except for the soloists. They formed a semi circle and cheered on each person as they entered. Tantomile did her flips and kicks, followed soon by Jemima rolling backwards into a one handed stand, slowly hopping away. Madam Lucy waved up Munkustrap, who got up as quickly as possible and cartwheeled into the centre, dropping on one leg, before strutting out. Victoria let out an astonished cry. Next Demeter stood up, and began to pirouette, leaving after three perfectly executed turns. Tugger was up last, entering to drop into jazz splits and roll upwards, spinning around while winding his hips in a circle.

The trio all stayed until the end, where the group moved in sync. Left arm out, right arm out. Pull them in to the chest with a bent elbow, then dig. As the music tapered off, the group came together in one big hug, though slightly sweaty. Madam Lucy swung the camera on their little audience, who all looked realitvely impressed. Victoria still had her mouth open.

"Where the hell did my brother learn to throw it back?" She screeched, and the camera swung back to Misto, who looked very embarrassed. His cheeks flushed, and he hid his face in his hands. She cackled, and the recording was shut off. As the dancers prepared to remove show makeup, Misto found himself dragged away from the alluring pack of baby wipes to face his sister. She didn't look angry, but she has a certain look on her face that meant he'd forgotten something. "Are you sure you want that up?"

"... Yes?" He said nervously. She was speaking in low tones, so he matched her volume.

"Are you okay with the idea that M might see it?" She pressed, looking concerned. He breathed a sigh of relief. So she wasn't mad at his rather... Sexual dancing. She was just worried.

"Yes. I'm fine with it, thank you for worrying," he said. "I hope he sees it. He'll have to face that I'm living my best life without him. This is my debut, and I am happy it's one I'm happy in."

She gave him a hug then. He patted her back, until she released him then she shoved him in the shoulder, abd spoke at normal volume.

"You're such a mature guy," she teased. "Oh look at me, being all mature. I wear black and white 'cause all I own is monochrome. I'm the straight flag but twisty. I need to wipe away this rainbow glitter, I can't be seen as, gasp, wearing anything other than black and white." Misto sighed heavily, and let her continue to poke fun. He didn't wipe away the glitter as he went to get changed, and let her over dramatise it as they left the school. He'd go back later to pick up Demeter, but Victoria wanted to go home and he wanted McDonald's.

Once she was home and he was in the drive thru, he began to actually think of the lesson. They had been told that they'd have surprise guests early on, but he hadn't expected it to be those three. Technically, as well known and well performing students, having them in the video certainly could help the school's reputation. Not to mention having Tugger in there was just another thirst trap for teens who'd want to come to school to make a move on him.

He almost pitied Tugger, but it seemed he actually enjoyed the spotlight, basking in it at every opportunity. Driving back to school to wait for Demeter, he caught sight of a familiar car. He glanced through the window to check, and ice dropped into his stomach. Macavity. He began to drive, hoping he hadn't been spotted. He pulled out his massive sunglasses and balanced them on his nose. They hid his eyes, which rapidly filled with tears. His mascara began to smudge under them. If he could just head away from the area and get to the school, he could be safe. He went as fast as the speed limits allowed until he pulled into the parking lot. His fingers gripped the wheel until they went white, and he shook in his seat for a few minutes. The car hadn't followed him, and he was safe, safe.

The logical part of his brain protested that his chips were getting cold. In automatic movements, he ate them one at a time, not even tasting them. He ate his burger next, staring up through the sunroof, seat leaned all the way back. The clouds passed by idly. They got darker, and rain started to spatter the car. He began to shake a little less. He was fully under control half an hour later, when Demeter threw herself in the front seat. He'd managed to get up and throw away the trash in the meantime, and was left with nothing but a vanilla milkshake when she got in.

"Tugger and Munk need another lift, it's raining," she half explained, turning the radio on. The back doors opened, and in got the brothers. Tugger immediately began to sing off key with Demeter, and Munkustrap sighed, head in hands. Misto gave him a wry smile. Then he joined in, the most off key he possibly could. "Yes Misto! Louder for the one in the back guys!"

They made their way home and sang the entire way. At one particularly bad rendition of Hey Ya, it seemed like Munkustrap wanted to physically implode. Eventually he joined in, and by the time they dropped Demeter off, he seemed almost anxious to get out with her. Instead, Tugger slid into the front seat, and turned the music up further. Misto could have died at the poor greyhead's face. He looked ready to move to the astral plane.

Soon enough they were at their house. As they got out, Munkustrap bumped his brother hard on the hip, and something came over his face.

"Oh! Right! Misto, you wanna come in for a second? I need to ask you something, like, for a performance," he said. Misto could not say no, nor did he really want to. He liked hanging out with Tugger. He climbed out, and Munkustrap held the front door open for him. Now in the garage, he took some time to admire the sheer amount of stuff on the walls. There were bikes, a workbench, several unfinished projects, a boat on the ceiling, several posters, an amp, a drum set hung up and a few guitars, both bass and electric.

They all went inside to a front hall, removing their shoes. Tugger turned to him with a smile, and lead him around.

"You want a drink? We have whiskey, gin, vodka, red wine, white wine, rose wine, more gin, scotch, rum and cider-" Tugger said, leading him through the massive entrance hall and down a side corridor to a humungous kitchen. "-milk, juice, water, tea, coffee, hot chocolate, left over Chinese, even more gin, and I think that's it."

"You forgot the backup gin." Munkustrap said sarcastically. Tugger nodded sagely. Misto tried to not laugh.

"I'll have uh, whatever," he said, and Tugger grinned. He pulled out a pot, milk, and hot chocolate powder. Hot chocolate it was then. A sudden jingle of a bell made him jump, and look around wildly. He was on full alert, until he saw the biggest cat he'd ever seen totter into the kitchen. "You have a very cute dog."

"That! Is Ripper!" Tugger gasped. Munkustrap patted Misto on the shoulder and left, presumably to escape whatever hell was going to come to pass. "He's my Master of Chonk, an absolute unit, and the best kitty in the whole world! Who's a vicious baby?"

Ripper rubbed up against Misto's ripped jeans and purred louder than a freight train. His spiked collar was scratchy, and Misto awkwardly patted the cat on the head. Tugger motioned for him to pick Ripper up, busy with the hot chocolate. Misto bent down and hefted him into his arms, holding him like a baby. Ripper adjusted himself, and began purring louder.

"You, kind sir, are very large," Misto said. The cat blinked slowly at him. He blinked back. Ripper slowly, slowly, slowly, nodded, eyes closing. "Okay, now he's sleeping. He just... Flopped."

"That's cats, babe," Tugger shrugged. "Now take a seat. I'll grap Ripper from you on a sec."

Misto sat. Ripper was lifted from his arms and draped over Tugger's shoulders, making a very fluffy collar. They sat quietly for a few minutes listening to the rain and drinking their drinks. Misto felt very comfortable in this kitchen, almost safer then he did at Demeter's.

"So. What I'm asking you to do is just to come on stage for a second, roll over my shoulder and do a few turns before running off again," Tugger eventually said, looking calm as a cucumber. Misto swallowed his mouthful, and licked the whipped cream from his finger. He pretended to consider it, but knew the answer anyway.

"Any reason you chose me? I'll do it, but I'm curious," Misto inquired, tapping the table. Tugger looked pleasantly surprised, like he'd thought he'd refuse.

"Well the line for the song says 'I've got an angel on my shoulder, and Mephistopheles'," Tugger said sheepishly. "But I can't fit all the syllables in so I keep saying 'Mistopheles, and thought it might be a fun touch? Sure I could have asked Vic, but everyone already knows you as Mistoffelees. I do wonder why you don't use your first name."

"Its the name Vic uses when she's mad at me, and it's kinda strange sounding," Misto shrugged, looking out of the window. The rain was coming down heavily. He watched the drops, reminding him of the days where he and Victoria would race them and call them 'jellyfish'. "What am I? A Duck? No thanks."

"Huh." Tugger said, and then they sat in comfortable silence again. They both watched the rain fall, and listened to Ripper purr. They sat together for another hour, quiet with only a few moments mumbled together. The rain got heavier and heavier, until the voice of Old Dueteronomy echoed through the house, accompanied by a door closing.

"All right boys, those roads aren't safe to drive, best stay home tonight!" As the head of the school entered the kitchen, Misto froze on his chair and locked up. He didn't know much of Old Duete, and that made him a loose cannon. How would he react to a strange student in the kitchen, whom he didn't know, drinking hot chocolate with his son? Old Dueteronomy smiled, and said in his soft, gravelly voice; "Why, hello there. My name is Dueteronomy. Are you a friend of my sons'?"

"This is Misto, Dad," Tugger said, petting Ripper and watching Misto get closer and closer to becoming a marble statue. "The dance guy from the theatre. What d'you mean the roads are bad?"

"They're flooded beyond belief," Old Dueteronomy said. He turned back to Misto. "Best you call your family and tell them you're staying here tonight, Mr Mistoffelees. I can't let you go home in good convention. Please, stay."

Mist looked over to Tugger, who looked very lax about the situation. He slowly relaxed his shoulders, and unclenched his hands in his lap. His nails had made crescents in his palm, and a couple on his left hand were bleeding slightly.

"Thank you, Sir, that's very kind. I will call my sister now," Misto said carefully, getting up. Old Dueteronomy watched him leave the kitchen, turning to his son. Once they were sure that Misto was on the phone with his sister, his father gave him a look.

"He's been in a bad place," Tugger said quietly. "Macavity. He hurt him, badly."

"I see," rumbled Old Dueteronomy. "Well then, we must show him proper Jellicle hospitality then. We've got pizza in the freezer, son, and get your brother to help set a bedroom for our guest."

Tugger nodded. Hell yeah, pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I left the update yesterday. I'd spent the day in Cambridge with my pals and saw the sonic film (again) and it slipped my mind to update. Feel free to scream at me, I was a fool and a cruel writer to such a lovely reader base.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ha ha ha I hate my job, but at least this fic exists
> 
> Mid week update because I am sick and stupid

"Viccy I can't get home," Misto said. Then he reconsidered. That definitely sounded like he was in trouble. "The uh, roads, are flooded. I'm at Tugger's house. Listen, I'm unsure of Old Dueteronomy. Got any reassuring things?"

"Well, hello to you too," she said. He could almost hear her eyes rolling. "As long as you're safe. I personally don't have anything bad to say about Duete. He's been really nice, so far. Hang on, I'll get Dem on the phone."

He listened to the shuffle of the phone being put down, and the ping that signalled speakerphone on the other end. There was muffled speech, before a chair creaked and Demeter tapped at the table. The older girl sighed.

"If you're at Munk's house, you are probably in the safest place in the world. Old Dueteronomy is the kindest man you'll ever meet, Misto. He's probably just going to semi-adopt you, like he did with Bomba and the twins. When Tugger started his band, the twins were the sketchiest, most bastardous people known on earth. Old Dueteronomy treated them like his own and now they're so much better. You'd have never seen such bitter urchins, Mist, but Duete helped them become the loveable miscreants they are now." Demeter breathed a soft breath. He could hear how much she was wanting to say. "Bomba came from a bad place too. She was better than you, but still bad. Duete only wants what's best for you. If that trio can trust him, I'm sure you'll trust him."

"Okay," Misto said with determination. "Okay. As long as he's safe in your eyes, he's fine with me. Just... Don't be disappointed that I don't fully trust him yet, alright? Its gonna take some time."

"Yeah, deal," Demeter said. "See ya when the roads are good tomorrow, Misto." sje got up and left, and Vic wished him a good night. She hung up, and Misto was alone in the hall. The lights were on, and the outside seemed darker than ever. Something wove around his legs, and he jumped. Ripper mewled at him. Misto crouched to pet him and the maine coon crawled up his arm to his shoulders. Draping himself elegantly around Misto, Ripper meowed again. His tail flicked, and he leaned on the shoulder closer to the kitchen door.

Misto got the hint. Carefully, he went back in. Tugger was rooting around in the freezer, and Old Dueteronomy was sat at the table, casually flicking through a newspaper. He nodded warmly at Misto, who smiled weakly back. Tugger resurfaced, dusted ice glittering in his hair. He threw two large pizzas on to the top of the stove, paused, and grabbed another two. Satisfied, he grabbed Misto's hand and dragged him out of the kitchen.

"Right, we'll get Munkustrap to help set you a room, or you can just bunk with me if you like. The guestroom is kinda filled with instruments at the mo," Tugger enthused, dragging Misto up the stairs. His hand was still cold from the freezer. As they reached the top landing, they almost bowled over Munkustrap, who stumbled and righted himself in time. Ripper yowled at the movement and haughtily jumped into Tugger's arms. "How inhabitable are the spare rooms?"

"Guest room is full, spare one has my art work in it and spare two has your artwork in it," Munkustrap said. He caught on quickly, casually leaning on the wall for a moment. "If Misto is staying over, just let him have your bed."

"I'll take the floor," Misto suggested. He knew that the floor wasn't too comfortable (thanks Macavity) but he's slept on worse (thanks Macavity). He was thankful for having a stable place to sleep now. "I don't mind."

"Cool. He's got my bed, I'll grab extra blankets. Also, Dad said we could watch a film and eat pizza tonight, so could you choose one?" Tugger grinned slyly. "You know what I would choose. What was it last time, sex zombies from outer space? Or was that the time before? I can never keep track." 

Munkustrap rolled his eyes and patted Misto on the shoulder, almost in sympathy. As he went downstairs, the other two entered Tugger's room, and Misto drank it all in. The walls were deep red and had many posters on them. The closet was painted in the bisexual flag colours, and had glow in the dark stars. He had a boudoir, unlit, with a rack for his spiked chokers and leather bracelets. Misto had to admire those. All he had were a few bowties and whatever he could steal from his sister without her noticing. There were two shelves of CDs, most of them rock or classical. He wondered, privately, if there were any more cover CDs. The curtains were black, and the bed was in the dead centre of the room. Though unusual, Misto has seen far weirder bed placements (Victoria). Tugger quickly began pulling off his sheets, and Misto leapt in to help him. Together, they put on fresh sheets, a garish leopard spot pattern with black pillows. Just Tugger's style, to be honest. 

Misto fell face first on the bed and groaned heavily. He was tired, and the day had been so long. Tugger bounced beside him, on his back, and sighed in the pleased manner he always seemed to have. The bed didn't creak, and the mattress rebounded easily, half lifting Misto. They lay there for a few moments in silence, before Tugger spoke up.

"You know, now that we're gonna be here a while, we should do something fun. Like, after the film. Oh I know!" He leaned really close to Misto's ear and whispered "We could gossip about who we like... Just like the teen movies." 

Misto hit him with a pillow. Tugger took this as a sign to continue.

"We can chat about boys, and do each others makeup and nails," he warbled as Misto chased him further. "Can you curl my hair? Oh, let's play dress up, you can be the Knight to my Princess!"

"I'll have you know that my nails are already flawless," Misto grinned, starting to breathe heavily. He threw the pillow back on the bed. "But I never played dress up. Wanna model me to be just like you and the edgy rock crew?"

"Hey now-" Tugger began, not offended but clearly trying to save face. 

"You're an all star?" Tugger gave him a look for that. Apparently it didn't help him to save face, whatsoever. Misto smirked unapologetically. 

"Shut up. I'm not edgy, I'm alluring as hell. I'm suave," Tugger posed in what was evidently a mockery of Mick Jagger. He looked ridiculous. "Hell yeah. Suave. Also, where went all your... Aloofness? Shyness? You always have this aura of 'Oh I am so mysterious. So shy.'"

He shrugged, starting to snicker. Misto laughed at him for a few moments, before Tugger actually opened his closet. He went straight to the back of it, digging around for a few moments and pulling out a suitcase. He lugged it onto the bed, and, as Misto watched from behind him, opened it to a lot of fabric. There were studs, deep reds, and even a few belts and boots. 

"These are my old clothes from like, year seven. They should fit you nicely. Let's give you a rock band makeover," Tugger said, and Misto found himself snorting. He'd not been serious, but what the hell. He nodded, and Tugger lit up. He made an aborted movement, arms half up, before remembering something. He put them down. "Can I give you a hug? Viccy said stuff about you not liking much contact, so I thought maybe I should ask."

"You can," Misto said, touched. People usually just forgot or ignored his sister's warnings, and it felt nice to be accommodated for. He opened his arms and Tugger scooped him. Standing at his full height, hugging Mistoffelees from under his arms, he lifted the dancer at least half a foot off of the ground. "Okay. This is quite high. Please put me down."

Tugger did so immediately, and seemingly vibrated with joy.

"Now you've had a TugHug, you are officially one of my closest friends," He declared. Putting a hand to his chin, he raised an eyebrow and leaned in. "Unless we become something more, oh ho ho."

"Like best friends?" Misto deadpanned. Tugger laughed at that, a deep belly laugh that filled the whole room up. "Don't say you're joking. I would have made friendship bracelets for us. With little hearts and rainbows." 

"You can make those?" Tugger said, surprised. Misto shrugged, but before he could explain that yes, he could, and that he'd happily make one for Tugger, Munkustrap knocked and came in.

"Food's ready. We're watching Aristocats," and then he turned and was gone. The duo followed him. In the kitchen they each stacked a plate full of pizza and moved onto the lounge area. Old Dueteronomy was sat on a two seater. Next to him were two armchairs, clearly shuffled around to make a little viewing space. Tugger and Munkustrap took the armchairs, leaving Misto to lean away on the two seater. The film began, and slowly they were dropped into the world of the cats. Soon enough a song came up that they all knew and loved, and so they sang along. Though Tugger clearly was the best singer, the other two at least tried. 

"Abraham de Lacey," sang Tugger and Munk.

"Ba da da da da da!" Misto provided the horn solo. Old Dueteronomy chuckled, the couch moving lightly. 

"Giuseppe Casey," they crooned, getting more hyped for the ginger cat on screen. He moved towards the flowers on the branch, letting the petals fall over Duchess. 

"Thomas O'Malley, O'Malley the Alley Cat," They chorused. Old Dueteronomy smiled slightly at their antics. Soon enough, the film came to the racist section of 'Everybody wants to be a Cat', in which Misto simply shaded his eyes and made a sound of secondhand embarrasment.

"I could never," he muttered. Munkustrap snorted and saluted an agreement. Tugger snorted into his pizza, nearly choking on a slice of pepperoni. 

As the film drew to an end, and another began to play, Misto began to snooze lightly, slipping until he rested on something soft and warm. He lay there for a few minutes until voices broke through the haze, and his phone buzzed. He blearily opened his eyes to see Munkustrap and Tugger looking down on him. Tugger had his camera out, and snapped one last guilty picture. Misto immediately went to 'He's drawn a Penis on my face.' It wouldn't be the first time someone had pranked him like that. 

He went to push himself up, only to realise his surface was moving slowly and shaking with suppressed laughter. His face went bright read with mortification as Old Dueteronomy huffed out a laugh. He sounded like Tugger's laugh was turned down in volume, and deepened to a comforting rumble. 

"Sorry," he squeaked. Then he blurted; "Why does Tugger have his phone out?" Tugger waved his twitter account, and with dread, Misto checked it on his phone. Sure enough, there he was: curled up, face smushed against Old Dueteronomy, looking like a sleepy kitten. Great. His sister had already commented, something about how she knew he was a softie. He sent his own comment soon after.

She texted him, only a few words. 

'knew you'd trust him, what with ur daddy issues' 

'??? we both have daddy issues, shut ur up. Alsi, juries still out. Seems p chill, wouldn't trust him with like... my child tho.'

'wiw kids already huh. does Munk know ur smooching on him yet.'

'shut. Ur. UP.' 

He shut his phone down then, leaving Victoria to ponder that meaning. She'd probably try set them up. He was pretty sure Munkustrap had his eyes on someone else though, and anyway, Tugger would definitely be a cooler boyfriend. He was happy with being friends, though. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to the idea of a relationship again. 

-*-*-

How had the evening come to this? Here he was, sat in Tugger's boudoir, applying heavy amounts of eyeliner to his bottom lid. The sleeveless denim jacket was heavy with pins, and coupled with the belt covered in chains, he was certain he weighed at least double his usual. In big clunky boots, with blue and purple laces, he felt very... Powerful? He wasn't sure, but he was loving every second of it. He had a new bracelet on his wrist, made only a half hour ago, at Tugger's insistence. They were simple patterns, inverted for each bracelet. One said 'Fri' and the other 'ends'. Not his best work, but Tugger seemed perfectly pleased as punch when he handed his over. Misto told him to apply clear, flexible varnish to it, to make it last longer, and the rocker seemed serious when he agreed. 

Misto wouldn't be surprised if it was gone by the time they went to school next. 

Tugger finished dusting himself with glitter, and turned to face him. Misto sighed. Tugger had decided to get in on the style swap. He wore black leggings that hid nothing, and a plain black jacket with a white shirt beneath it. He hated to admit it but, that was definitely Misto's brand. At least Misto could wear a tacky spiked collar for once.

They posed for a half hour before deciding on the top six photos for Tugger's Instagram. As they uploaded them (Style Swap Challenge: Friend edition!) they got ready for bed. Misto borrowed a shirt from Tugger and the two lay down for the night, ready to sleep. Lulled by the rain, Misto was so close to slumber, when suddenly Tugger spoke up.

"You know, I'm glad we met, Misto," he yawned. "It's great to have good friends every now and then. I'm pretty sure... Everyone... Likes you in the prank squad..."

Tugger fell asleep after that. Misto lay awake, turning the words over in his head. He dropped off as well, Ripper settling at his feet. The world spun, went black, and tossed him into sleep like a barrel down Niagra Falls. His magic sat heavy on his chest, a reassuring weight on his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sick, I'm gay, my job won't let me work until next month because its 'slow business' at the moment and I'm POOR.
> 
> If you guys have any spare change, please consider my Ko-fi account. 
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/inerdmuch
> 
> I'm so broke and I've got equipment to get I hate film photography so much lmaoooo. Please don't feel pressured, it's just a nice thing to do. Also, if you send me any cash with a specific number up to 28 I'll give you a sneak peek of that chapter. As a little thank you!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S STILL SATURDAY IT'S JUST REALLY LATE AAAAAAAAAAAA

"Wake up. Wake up. It's morning, it's still raining, so wake up," grunted Misto, trying to move Ripper from his chest and neck. The cat purred, sending vibrations into his ribcage. Outside, the rain fell in swathes of near solid liquid, slamming against the house. "No, don't be cute. I'm trying to get up, I need to see if I can get to school."

"Don't bother," Tugger drawled sleepily. "The roads are literally swimming pools right now. The good news is, it should stop in an hour and you should be able to leave by this evening."

Misto groaned and lay still. Ripper continued to purr. Tugger got up and stretched, yawning. He patted his bracelet, and seemed pleased that it was still there. He got dressed, ignoring Misto, admiring it. In yellow, black and blue, it was very striking, checker patterned with his half of the word written in white. They were the only thread colours he could find, but they seemed to work well together, oddly. Pulling on his shirt, he turned to Misto. The guy had fallen back asleep, nose twitching whenever Ripper's fur came near it. Good kitty. Best kitty.

"Oi, chonk fest, get over here," he said. Ripper used Misto as a launchpad and sailed into his arms, twisting around and giving him the soppiest look an animal could. Misto coughed and sat up, inhaling deeply. "Come on, he's not that heavy. He's just a little-"

"Little?" Misto said dryly. Tugger grinned and let Ripper leave the room. The rain patterned against the glass of the windows as they went down to breakfast, noting that the other two weren't even awake yet. It was seven thirty, so understandable. Tugger began to take out ingredients, checking his phone and frowning, muttering every so often. Misto looked at what he was taking out, and deduced it may be pancakes. That was good: he liked pancakes. However, it did seem that Tugger had no clue as to what he was doing. "Need some help?"

"Yeah," he groaned, defeated. Misto strolled over, and instructed him to bring out two bowls, a whisk, pan and board. Tugger dud as he was told and watched as Misto began to cook. He flipped the eggs, cracking them on a spatula, and started adding flour slowly. A pinch of salt, splash of milk, and a drizzle of sunflower oil. He began whisking it, frothing up the batter to add lightness to the pancakes. As he began to pour the mix into the now heated pan, he made a few shapes. Even if his heart was a little wonky and the cat face slightly bulbous, it was good enough, he supposed.

"Victoria doesn't like pancakes too much, but I love them," he confessed. Smiling sadly, he plated them up and brought them to the table. "My ex used to say I'd get fat if I ate them, and that they made him sick. This is the first time I've made them in a while now."

Tugger gave him a reassuring pat on the hand, holding it briefly. Misto shook his head and grinned, before applying a deadly amount of chocolate sauce to his breakfast. Tugger took this as a challenge, and added nearly a handful of sugar afterward. They began to eat, utensils clicking, and the rain driving down the window. Eventually Munkustrap meandered in, and Misto pointed him to the stove where there were two other plates, stacked with pancakes. Blearily, the eldest brother splashed his with lemon juice and disappeared, leaving behind the scent of citrus.

"We haven't had anyone cook us breakfast in ages," Tugger confessed, once he'd finished. Misto tilted his head. "Even before Old Dueteronomy took us from our mother, we never really ate home cooked food. Once Dad took us out, we survived mostly on takeout, and ready meals. We occasionally do cook, but none of us are really that... Good? At it?"

"Victoria can't cook for shit," Misto said blithely. "Neither can Demeter. Someone had to step up, and if it meant learning to cook in two weeks, I'd do it. Not to mention, before that, I had to cook anyway. Talk about being a fifties wife, jeeze." Tugger giggled at that. Old Dueteronomy entered, looking intrigued by the saccharine scent in the air. He spotted the pancakes. He glanced at Tugger, before reconsidering in a grimace, then glanced at Misto.

"Did you cook for us?" He asked in his deep voice. Misto nodded, a little more at ease than before. "How, how sweet of you, Mister Mistoffelees. You didn't need to, but thank you for the meal."

"Not an issue," Misto mumbled, bowing his head slightly. Old Dueteronomy noted this, and quickly took his food and left. He knew when someone wasn't quite ready. Soon as they'd finished the two set to washing up. Misto scrubbed while Tugger dried and put things away. Soon the conversation turned to jobs and the future. "If you couldn't do music or art, what would you do?"

"I'd get by on my roguish looks. Seduce the bored wives of billionaires, get them to send me cash, and fake my death every nine months," Tugger theorised. Misto snorted and dried his hands.

"So a sugar baby." He received a damp towel to the face. "I'd like to be a magician, if dance doesn't work out."

Tugger pounced on that immediately, eyes wide and sparkling with interest. Misto felt trapped in his excited gaze.

"Show me!" He half demanded. Misto rolled his eyes, and spun out until he stood behind Tugger, feeling in his pockets for a coin. Flicking the pound between his fingers, he conjured it from hand to hand, pulling it from mid-air and once even from behind Tugger's ear. At the end of a few simple conjurations he flicked his hand and wrist, feeling the uncomfortable weight of the coin appear behind his teeth. He stuck his tongue out, coin balanced safely on it. 

Tugger went wild.

It felt nice to have such a simple trick be admired by someone so thoroughly. He wasn't technically cheating with his magic, just adding a little flair. He followed it up with a card trick, pulling the cards from his pockets, and shuffling them in imperceptible fashions using a little illusion magic to add some extra impossible moves. Once Tugger had a card, Misto informed him to put it anywhere in the pack, then shuffle it. Once the pack was back in his hand, he flicked it sharply, and all the cards became Jack of Hearts. Tugger looked astounded as the pack fell to the ground, all his card, facing up at him.

"Now my final trick has more audience participation," Misto said. "It's called fifty two pickup, where you help me gather my cards."

"Should'a seen that coming," Tugger sighed, but began to pick the cards up diligently. Misto snickered and began picking others up too. Soon enough they were all packed away, and the day was still stretched out before them. "You wanna try the move I asked you about last night? We can use the garage."

"Sure," Misto said, non-committal. The rain had stopped. They entered the garage, each holding a large glass of water and stretching to warm up. 

"So like, you'll just run up and roll over my upper back, then I'll straighten up, and you should be able to swing onto my shoulder. If you could give a little wave or something like that, and then I'll slide you down. Then you can do anything you like as you leave the stage, I don't mind," Tugger explained. Misto nodded. It didn't seem to hard, a simple roll, but balance would be an issue at first. "I've got the song recorded, I'll get it up now..."

Tugger bent forward, and Misto ran out. As he went into a leap to roll on Tugger's shoulders, he stumbled a bit, and ended up clumsily falling off the other side. His shin hurt a bit, but it was just a bruise.

"Again," he said. "I know what I did."

So they tried again. This time he rolled perfectly, but Tugger was slow standing, ending up with him sliding down to early. So they did it again, and again, and again. At least two hours had passed before they got a perfect one down, and as they stood in the correct positions, they each went a little crazy. Misto fell to his knees and ran a hand through his hair. Tugger jumped around, fist pumping the air and shouting at the ceiling.

They rehearsed it after that, perfectionism in them both demanding the best. Eventually, the consensus was that Misto would walk on stage before the group, whip a red cloth off of the drumkit and saunter off, giving the audience a bit of mystery and intrigue as to who he was. Then, after he'd finished the move with Tugger, he would do a few spring and hops to stage right, spin three times, flick his arm around his head, and leave. He'd return nearing the end to cartwheel across the whole stage, doing a few jumps and spins, holding some form of ribbon. All in all, an amazing set. Not too much, but enough to add effect to the performance.

"We all rehearse on Fridays and Sundays in the old Gym," Tugger told him. "Try head over at some point so we can try it live."

"I'll clear my ever so busy social schedule," Misto said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Tugger grinned at him, and he found himself grinning back. It was new, having people who mutually liked him and him them, actual friends. He hasn't had proper ones in so long, it felt almost as if in a dream. Then Tugger slapped his back, and he realised it was all real. They went back inside, and sat in the kitchen with Ripper, talking about nothing and everything.

-*-*-

Victoria greeted him very enthusiastically when he finally made it home. The roads had been slippery, but he had been safe. She begged him for details. He'd told her what had happened, and showed her his new bracelet. She fawned over it for quite a bit of time. He staved off her questions with the promise (read; threat) of burying her in friendship bracelets. Demeter was happy he was home too. She'd even given him one of the muffins she and Vic had tried to make. It was nearly hard as diamond, but it tasted like it was made with love and trying, so he are the whole thing and said it was delicious. 

"Is it really?" Victoria asked, nervously searching his face. He swallowed the last bite and smiled softly at her. "Is it?" 

"The best muffin I've had since before we left home," he said, and she nodded furiously, smiling as wide as the sun. Demeter made a sound of pure elation. 

"Do you think Bomba would like one," she asked seriously. Misto nodded. 

"Definitely. If she loves you now, she'll worship you after one of these," he said, vaguely hyperbolic. She immediately packed three in a bag and tied it with ribbon. Misto sent Bomba a text with a semi-threatening semantic field. Basically telling her that she WOULD like the muffin, or PAY the PRICE. 

It wasn't being over protective, it was just being a good brother and friend. Bomba seemed to agree when she simply sent a few heart emojis and a cat face. He thought that meant she agreed, but he wasn't sure. 

And now it was late. The birds had long stopped singing, and only the owl's melancholic calls were awake with him. It reached the point of being swallowed by his thoughts, unable to move past the ideas sprouting in his mind. 

Misto stared at his ceiling. There were two glow in the dark stars and a little moon there now. Tugger had handed them to him, and brushed him off when he tried to give them back. He reminisced on the goodbye they had, and the feeling of slight sadness that tinged his drive home. Was this how everyone felt when leaving their friends? It was strange, but now he supposed he'd have to get used to it. He couldn't bother people just because he was lonely.

Sighing to himself, he realised he missed Ripper's weight on him. He got up and opened his cupboard. Shoved at the back was a smooth, soft blanket in baby pink. It weighed so much, but just pulling half over him as his hugged it made him feel better. He hadn't had to use it for so long. He almost felt weak. He gently rapped his knuckles on his skull. Nothing wrong with being weak. He was allowed to be nice to himself. This was a part of getting better.

Soothed by the blanket, he fell asleep far more quickly. Maybe like this, he could imagine himself living a life without the scars of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a Ko-fi if yall wanna gimme some cash, my job is saying I won't come in for ages cause of the coronavirus and ya girl is POOR. 
> 
> ko-fi.com/inerdmuch
> 
> Please. Am poor. But anywho ye, I'll have time to write now! So commissions are on my tumblr, same name as this account here.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me??? Write a chapter where a character injures themselves like I did??? Nooooo........
> 
> OK yeah but I exaggerated a little for the drama in this episode of keeping up with the Tuggoffelees

Misto stared at the mouse on one side of the room. The mouse squeaked at him, indifferent and unknowing of her fate. Stolas watched from a throne of black and pink, adding more blush to their feathers.

"What if I kill her?" Misto asked, afraid. He didn't want to be a murderer. He was only nineteen. It didn't matter that it was just a mouse, it didn't matter it probably wouldn't be painful, and it didn't matter that most people wouldn't care. Stolas scoffed, and threw their blush and brush into the ether.

"Trust me, I've seen your conjuring improve, mate. I'd be confident in you bringing a big dog around. You'll do fine, luv, just do your little thing and get it done," They said reassuringly. Misto nodded, and loosened his tense body. "Once we get past that magic cap, you'll be unstoppable. Well, mostly. Not against me." 

Feeling his magic roll slowly, from under his ribs, ebbing through his arms in a warm pulse, he focused on the mouse. She didn't seem to notice the faint bluish purple sparkle glittering around her. He imagined her appearing in his hand after a safe passage through space and time, holding open his palm. He squeezed his eyes shut. He pushed out more and more power, until his hand suddenly felt very heavy. Much too heavy for one little mouse.

Opening his eyes, he tried not to scream. On his hand were at least seven mice. Stolas looked proud, even as he very quickly put them on the floor. He could still feel their tiny paws, oh God, that was gross. They were all alive, missing no limbs. He watched them scurry away. The original gave him a look as she totttered away. He didn't think she'd enjoyed that much, if her indignant squealing was anything to go by. 

"That was sick," Stolas commented. They summoned a wine glass and a bottle from nowhere, pouring a heavy glass of a dark, deep drink. It had a faint shimmer in it, and Misto must have looked very curious, because Stolas held the glass out. "Take a fuckin' sip, babes."

"Oh, I don't actually..." Misto trailed off. Stolas pushed the glass at him, floating it over with a wriggle of his talons. The glass was cold to the touch. Misto lifted it to his mouth. He hesitated, then drank a few drops. His eyes widened and pupils blew to a large size. The glass disappeared from his hands, and Stolas only just caught him before he hit the ground. "WOAH. I'm so... Floaty."

"I forgot you were mortal!" Howled Stolas, looking guilty. Misto couldn't really see them past the pulsing colours over his eyes. He felt oddly hot. Stolas awkwardly pulled his phone out of his pocket and searched the contacts quickly, and began typing. Misto didn't seem to care as he absently traced shapes into the air. "Okay, I've told your sister you don't feel well so you went home. You took the bus, not well enough to drive. I'm just gonna teleport you home, into your bed. Try to sober up before she gets home, ya?"

"Cat people," gurgled Misto happily. All of a sudden he was in a tight tube of a billion colours, and then in his bed, in his dark bedroom. He watched the shadows twist around him. He giggled at it all. Was he high? He had no clue. It took an indeterminate amount of time (three hours) for him to stand and get something to eat. He was still uncomfortably warm, even after a full tub of ice cream and dropping ice down his shirt. His clothes were wet. How fun. He managed to get back into bed, a pleasurable haze falling over him as he passed out.

He later woke to the sound of the front door opening, and groaned. The heat was lessened, now, and his bedsheets were suspiciously damp and far too hot. He didn't want to confirm his ideas, so he just kicked off the duvet and stumbled to the closet to pull out a new blanket and some new pyjamas. Lying back down, he faintly recognised he was pale and shaky. He was never accepting a drink from Stolas again. His head wasn't sore, but it felt like it was made from cotton and toothpaste. There was a knock on his door and Victoria entered with a bowl of what looked like soup. He couldn't be sure, and made sure to let her know with a sceptical look. She rolled her eyes at him.

"It's store bought," she huffed. "Silence, invalid. Anyway, cause you're sick, we just bought quite a few ready meals for the next few days. Unless you miraculously recover by tomorrow. Wanna tell me if you're really ill, or if something brought this on?"

"I drank something I shouldn't have," confessed Misto. His sister looked worried, so he hastily tried to cover it. "It wasn't their fault! They brought me home, it was just a few sips!"

"Was it Alonzo?" She asked, looking interested. He shook his head. "Etcetera? Bombalurina? Oh, I know, the twins?" 

"It was Stolas," he said sheepishly. She gave him a dirty look. He gave her one back, and she broke into a smile. Putting down the soup she stood.

"Finish that. As long as you're actually fine, I don't really mind," Victoria grinned. She left then, and Misto began eating the soup. The broth was as good as store bought soup could be, and the meat was bland. It was the best meal he'd had, in that moment. He ate it all and left the bowl on the side. Lying back, he felt his head clear slightly. It felt good to be cared for, but he had two lessons tomorrow, double hip-hop jazz. He was going to be exhausted, he knew it.

However, it did bring him closer to a rehearsal with No Rest for the Dancers. He felt oddly excited about that. Bombalurina had added him to the groupchat they shared, which was just random chaos. Occasionally schedules were posted. It was mostly memes; he found himself happy to contribute with ones he'd tailored to them specifically. Maybe it was torture to them to receive a cryptic meme at three am, but for him it was therapeutic. Having a timer for his messages helped, meaning he could get to sleep on time too. Speaking of which, he needed to check his phone. Ahhh, the joy of three hundred messages from one chat. 

BombsAway: so we're still on for Fri rite.

BombsAway: otherwise I mite as well pack my bags and move to new hampshire

Rumplejerrie: ya. also just remembered that cas Mist will be there we can get some advixe for that one dodge bit on drums

Mungoteazer: not to be that man but he doesn't play music. I don't think he knows how to fix ur mistakessss

Rumplejerrie: shut up u inferior twin

RmTmTggr: thas a lotta sodium chirren

MistyWisty: ya I can't play any instrument other than like.... grade two piano or grade one cello mates. I do the dancing, I get the easy part mkay

BombsAway:??????

BombsAway: that's a lie everyone dancing is hard and painful

Mungoteazer: gonna agree there, just watch in G makes me go ouch sometime s

RmTmTggr: agreed. I'm literally just bending over but the strenuous mess I become oof

MistyWisty: OK fairs lol all I need to know is how long yo need me for. I'm busy mkay

Rumplejerrie: w/ what

MistyWisty: u think I can leave my sis and Demeter to cook dinner? No.

Mungoteazer: idk until like 4

RmTmTggr: ya sounds gucci to me 

Misto left then, knowing he needed to sleep. He also did not want to see what would happen later on. Closing his eyes, hoping to rest until morning, he felt his mind tumble about restlessly.

-*-*-

"Come on, I know you can get your legs higher!" Madam Lucy called, overseeing their excersise. She'd decided to try a flexibility lesson, and mostly, they were keeping up. Until now. They were extending their legs as high as possible while doing a split. There were a range of heights set up for them to rest upon. Cassandra was struggling on one of the lowest sets, looking very uncomfortable. Bomba was about five sets ahead of her, trembling, trying to keep upright and not tap out. She was nearly overstretching.

Misto grabbed his leg with his arms to lift it higher, unable to without help. He was midway through the sets, one behind Bombalurina. He breathed heavily, and pushed upwards. He barely got it to rest on the middle bar of the stool before feeling something give and sort of tear, but not quite. He fell to the side, and let his legs slowly close while letting out a high pitched whine. Bomba looked at him, worried. The class turned to him, and he groaned on the cool floor of the studio. He needed to tap out.

"I think I'm just gonna," wheezing, he rolled up and started to drag himself up. "Water break, yep. I know my limits less than I thought, oh dear god." He tottered over to his bag to get a drink, feeling like his thighs were on fire. Something felt very bad, and he was scared of what it could be. Hopefully, not anything important for dance. Madam Lucy walked over to him, looking concerned as he his behind a smile.

"Misto, are you alright? I know you're very flexible, but you don't look so good," she winced. He nodded, breathing slightly heavy. "Maybe you should visit the on-campus nurse. Do you have anyone who could come along and walk you across?"

"I'll check now," he said. His left upper thigh was hurting more now. He pulled out his phone, and checked Victoria's schedule. She was in a lesson. So were Demeter, Plato, Tugger, and the twins. He had no one really to ask. Except... Oh, he dearly hoped Munkustrap was on the grounds. He held his phone to his ear and listened to the ringing anxiously. It clicked, and he nearly jumped with joy. "Munkustrap! Where are you right now?"

"I'm at home, eating a bagel with cream cheese," he replied, confused. "Why? Do you need something?"

"Nah, never mind then. Sorry to bother," Misto said, heart falling. "Just needed someone to help me to the on-campus nurse, hurt myself during a lesson."

"Sorry, Misto," Munkustrap winced. "Have you tried Tugger yet?"

"I checked his schedule, he's got a lesson," Misto sighed. Munkustrap made a confused noise.

"Not right now. His schedule changed last week, they have their lesson in the morning. He'll help you, trust me." Munk promised, before audibly crunching on the bagel. It sounded very, very crisp. 

"Thanks, you're the best," Misto said, and then he hung up. Well then, he supposed he was fine. Ignoring the stares he was getting from some of the girls, he dialed Tugger's number. It was picked up near immediately, and of course, he sounded very much busy.

"Wassup Misto?" He asked. Apparently he was in the middle of a throng of people. "WOAH, hands off. I'm on a phone call, guys, seriously. What can I do you for?"

"Well, firstly, probably twenty pounds and a nice dinner, but secondly, I need help getting to the nurse," Misto said. He hissed in pain as he shifted his legs. "Little accident in jazz, room twelve. Can you lend a hand, or...?"

"Oh ya, for sure," Tugger said. "I'm on my way. Excuse me ladies, I've got to go- gents, that goes for you too. Corbyn, I know you're neither a lady or gent, but really, I have to g-"

The call was cut off, and Misto rolled his eyes. Tugger was such a player, he wasn't surprised. He was touched that he left his adoring fan club to help Misto out, however. Madam Lucy looked pleased, and went back to teaching the last hour and a half of the class. Misto simply packed his dance shoes away and pulled on his trainers. He couldn't really change, other than pull on a black hoodie, so he was left waiting for several minutes until Tugger knocked and waltzed in.

"Madam, I'm here to escort a certain someone to the nurse," he grinned. Madam Lucy rolled her eyes in a joking manner and waved him off. Tugger walked over to him, and looked at him still on the ground. Misto put his bag on his shoulder and griiped the wall to try and stand up. Before he was even halfway up, Tugger simply scooped him up and slid his bag over his shoulder. "There, much better. See ya later, Bomba!"

"Let me down, I can walk!" Squawked Misto, struggling even as they left the room. Tugger was amused by his wriggling, and simply slung him over his spare shoulder in a fireman's carry. Misto gasped at the indignity of it all, and began writhing further. He was not going to be held like this in public, absolutely not. He had a reputation! Not a particularly large or important one, but it was respectable! Embarrassment flooded his face scarlet. "Tugger, I swear to whatever you pray to, I can and will destroy you!"

Tugger laughed, and finally set him down. His inner thigh crackled with pain, but he stayed standing up. Tugger rolled his eyes, and they made their way out like that, Misto leaning heavily on his arm when they took a step together. Teeth gritted, he made sure to not say a word of pain for quite a bit. Around fifteen minutes of inching forward later, Tugger spoke up. 

"No offence, but we aren't even a quarter way there," Tugger said gently. "Just let me carry you. You can choose how, but we won't get there for another half hour like this. If its that bad, just sit." Misto sighed, and nodded.

"Can you carry me on your arm, or shoulder?" He said, feeling very infantile. "I don't mind much where we go from there."

Tugger nodded, and lifted him by his hips onto his right forearm. Misto perched there, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to keep steady as they set off at a much faster pace. He was about a foot or so taller up there, and he watched the scenery curiously as they walked. Unfortunately, they did have to walk past the cafeteria, and Misto just his his face in his hands. Evidently just out of a drama lesson, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer bounded over, interested in what was happening.

"I hurt myself, and we're going to the nurse," Misto said simply. They nodded, and looked serious about it. For half a second.

"Yeah, but like, I wanna carry you," Rumpleteazer said, arms open and hands making a grabby motion.. Mungojerrie copied her from the other side. "We all want an armful of Misto. Your sis says you're squishy."

"I'm not squishy," Misto protested, but the trio just laughed. He felt a grin poke through. Maybe it wasn't so bad, being carried about by his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ha ha I couldn't walk properly for a week. I had a bruise inside my thigh because I fubkin am stupid and tried to do the splits when I have 0 (zero) flexibility
> 
> Anywho here's my Ko-fi my paycheck came to £0.00 this month and I need some cash money. 
> 
> ko-fi.com/inerdmuch


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I made a 13 minute video praising my COMMENTERS. Whatchu gon do about it.
> 
> But seriously please watch them both

"Okay, so I'm going to need you all to leave," the nurse, a lady called Electra, said calmly. Misto saw the three of them look ready to protest. "Well, unless Mr Mistoffelees here wants you to see him without his trousers, then I really don't think you should stay."

"You say that like those leggings hide anything," muttered Rumpleteazer sullenly. Despite himself, Misto snorted at that. "Like, can't we just stay on the other side of the curtain?"

"Could they?" Misto asked hopefully. He'd not felt very safe here, in its unfamiliar and sterile atmosphere. "I've got quite the nervous disposition, I really think I'd benefit just from talking to them."

He hit the nurse with his best 'Oh-woe-is-me-I-am-but-a-fragile-youth-who-needs-much-protection-from-the-outside-world' face, and it melted her heart. He knew it would work. It usually did.

"Very well. Outside the curtain, please. Mr, if you could please remove your trousers and show me the area of pain?" Electra said briskly. Misto put his leggings and leotard to the side, but pulled his hoodie back on. It was very cold in there. He spread his legs gingerly, and traced a wide circle around the worst of his pain. "Upper thigh, inner left. I see. And this was an accident in a stretching excersise, you say?"

He nodded vigorously. She hummed and made some note on her clipboard. Without warning, she reached over and touched the area, gently, but not gently enough. He howled in pain, and swiftly shut his legs. He backed up on the bed, feeling betrayed. He didn't want anyone to touch him, not there, not yet. His friends made a few noises of inquisivity from beyond the blue curtain. He hissed in pain, slowly unsquashing his thighs from each other. 

"I'd quite like if you ASKED, before touching me," Misto huffed, wiping away his surprised tears. He shot her an indignant glare. 

"I apologise, Mr, but-" she tried to explain, but Misto gave her a look that silenced her.

"Especially there. That's... Just... Please ask," he said, steadying his breath. He then said a bit louder; "Mungojerrie, Rumpleteazer. Tell me about anything, just do what you do best, and distract me."

Slowly he opened his legs again, and let her inspect the area. It had turned a deep bluish purple, and he knew that that was a bad sign. Mungojerrie leapt into a tale of two thieves, with Rumpleteazer interjection here and then. They told a story of how the two thieves met a young Prince (voiced by Tugger, of course) who helped them overcome their kleptomania and helped them start up a farm. Misto listened to them wax poetry of the farm, strawberry fields rolling out for miles, bees and golden sun. He made two loud and pained noises as Electra looked over him, but kept it down as they talked.

"So, it seems you've torn some veins," Electra sighed. "Essentially, you've bruised yourself, and it'll hurt for the next few weeks. I had suspicions you'd torn a muscle, but you seem to be fine. Stay off that leg, take a while off of dance, focus on your other studies."

"I'm doing two dance courses!" Misto protested, heart sinking. He couldn't miss any lessons. He had to dance, he couldn't just sit around, what would he even do? Electra sighed and handed him his leggings. Clutching his leotard and gingerly getting off the bed while leaning in his right leg heavily, he gave her a desperate look. "I can't just..."

"I'm sorry, Mr Mistoffelees," Electra said. She waved his friends back in, and Misto knew he probably looked heartbroken. He felt it. He leaned on Rumpleteazer as Electra gave him some pain medication, in liquid form. "Some morphine. Take two doses a day for three days, and then switch to something lighter. I wish you well, but this is all I can do."

Misto thanked her listlessly, and Mungojerrie made a sort of cradle with Rumeteazer. He sat down and they lifted him easily.

"Sorry, probably not the time, but you are very light," Rumpleteazer mumbled. "I could carry you alone. Let go, 'Jerrie, I'm gonna get him." He was held in a strange manner for a moment, before being set comfortably on her shoulder. She and Mungojerrie were six foot, and he wondered what is was with everyone being taller than him. They made it to his car, where Victoria was waiting with Demeter. She hurried over, and hit his arm.

"I could have at least heard from you myself," she scolded. Misto sighed, and looked down from his newfound height. "C'mon, Demeter is driving. Rumple, just drop him. I'll catch."

Misto fell into his sister's arms, fully trusting that he'd be caught. She lifted him above her head and shoved him into the car, ignoring I'd repeated vocalised pain as she repeated smacking his head into the top of the door. It was very obvious that some people were stifling laughter as he finally strapped himself in. He stuck his tongue out at Tugger, who covered his mouth to hide his smile. Misto spotted a familiar bracelet on his wrist, and waved his own.

"So what do you three want as thanks," Misto asked, leaning out of the car window. "I do food, bracelets, and sexy calendars."

"Sexy calendar," The twins said simultaneously. Misto rolled his eyes, and they grinned in unison.

"Nah, we just want food," Mungojerrie grinned.

"Yeah, just a cake with the message 'OwO What's this?' on it," cackled Rumpleteazer.

"Sure. I can get it to you on Friday. Tugger, what do you want?" they gaped as he wrote down their request. It would be time consuming, but he was going to make the most cursed cake he could. Tugger seemingly thought about it.

"Can I just get like, some funky jewelry?" He grinned, holding up his bracelets. "I'll take another five of these bad boys!"

Misto nodded, and wrote it down too. He knew what he could do. They began to pull our of the parking lot and head home, and Misto began to think of designs. He really had his work cut out for him this time.

Once home he started on the cake. Dry ingredients first, all mixed in a big bowl. 225g of caster sugar, 225g of self raising flour. That blended, he began adding in the wet ingredients. Four large eggs, a splash of milk, and the vanilla extract. He sat down at the table as he worked, first dose of pain medication already taken. As he stirred the mixture, four times clockwise and once counter clockwise for six rounds, he felt his arms get tired faster than usual. He poured the batter into a fun little cat shaped tin, and got Victoria to put it in the oven for thirty minutes, and once it was done, left it to cool. Back at the table, he began to decorate. He knew he was being filmed by Victoria, who was giggling heavily. His head felt spinney, and before he could stop himself, he faceplanted into the icing. Oh god he'd ruined the cake. He'd have to make another. If only his head wasn't so fuzzy.

Looking at Victoria, he made a strange mewling noise, before pushing himself upright. His face was sticky. Why was it sticky? He didn't know. Slowly his eyes began to blur, and he began talking about something. It was probably serious, because Victoria stopped recording and helped him to his bed, cleaning his face off.

-*-*-

He waved as Victoria and Demeter drove off, sat in a computer chair with wheels on the bottom. Using a Broom to propel himself he sped to the kitchen. Now his body was more used to morphine, he was mostly coherent, able to move without any help. He set to working at the kitchen. Tugger had requested five bracelets, and he'd gotten Victoria to get the colours he'd wanted yesterday, when he was still a little doddery. She'd come back with a piece of paper with five crudely drawn designs on it. He had finished two so far, and he'd have to say they weren't his worst work.

The first was an ocean design, peacock blue and cerulean, with a little red octopus on it. It had taken him nearly two hours just to find a pattern for it, but he was proud of it. The octopus even had a little smile! He traced the cephalopod and put it down to look at the other. It was a single sprig of lavender along a full length, pink in the background with emerald green for the stalk and lilac for the petals. It looked a little pastel for Tugger, but he wouldn't comment on it. 

He had to finish the final three, and he held up his rough pattern; he began weaving the threads on the table. Under and over, knotting it, changing colours as the pattern started to show. It went from deep red to purple in a leapoard spot pattern, drifting to blue at the end. He smiled as he remembered the sleepover. It had been so much fun. Autoplay on his video decided for him what he was going to watch, and he listened with intrigue to the Black Dahliah murder case. The Shane guy seemed funny, and the Ryan guy seemed like he took it a little too seriously. He snorted at their antics, and wondered how deep a friendship had to be to act so comfortably around each other. Lord knew he was still awkward around his friends, even Tugger. 

Once completed, he looked over the last two patterns. That one had taken him around an hour and a half. He decided on what looked like the less time consuming one. It was four ace cards, each with a big symbol in the middle. It was black and white, but had blue dots scattered about. Scrawled next to it were the words 'looks like magic glitter :D'. He rolled his eyes and began weaving. His fingers hurt, but he didn't mind the task at hand. It was slow going, but eventually he could see the shapes taking form. He frowned and went to fetch some glitter glue. He'd forgotten blue thread, so actual glitter would have to suffice. He daubed it on, and set the fourth by the others to dry. It was getting to be around midday now and he was hungry. It also meant it was time for his last dose of morphine. He swallowed the bitter liquid quickly and chased it down with a sweet red grape from his handful.

Sitting back at the table, he lay his head in his arms as he waited for the wooziness to subside. Eventually he sat back up, and wondered to himself if it was worth doing the last one right now. Sighing, he supposed it was. He pulled up the pattern and squinted. It was clearly done in a rush, coloured pencils overtaking lines. Good lord. He rooted in his thread pile for the colours he'd need. Black, white, yellow, orange, brown, dark brown, red and blue. An interesting mix for an interesting idea.

He had no idea how to do this.

On the first try, it came out as a garbled mess of colours. He quickly left it to his reject pile, where other monstrosities hid. The second attempt was vaguely better, but he still didn't like it. He didn't like the third. Or the fourth. Or the fifth, or sixth. At some point Victoria and Demeter had come home, toting boyfriends and girlfriends respectively. She'd poked her head in and before she could open her mouth, he shot her a look that was labelled 'I-am-so-deep-in-the-zone-I-may-just-murder-someone'. She nodded. But before she left she did throw a peanut at his head and put a small bowl by his arm.

He knew it was getting later and later, but it seemed that the seventh attempt was the lucky number. It was perfect. Two little cat faces, one tuxedo with a blue-green eye combo, and a maine coon with a massive man of fluff. Both exceedingly cute. The maine coon had a red collar and the tuxedo a blue one. He'd had to make it really wide, but he doubted Tugger would mind. Tying it off, he grabbed some tippex and gave the cats cute little eye shines in different shapes. Tuxedo had stars, maine coon had hearts. All set on a purple background. It was the best thing he'd made, and he felt himself tearing up looking at it.

"You okay, Misto?" Asked Plato, looking worried. "Do you want Victoria?"

"It's fucking perfect," he sobbed, shoving it into the poor guy's face. "Look at the detail. It took me well over six hours, but look at it! It's so good."

"Yeah dude, sure is," Plato brightened, pleased that he wasn't crying over anything worse. He took it gently and turned it over and around, looking at it under the light.

"Thank god its over, I'm going to bed," Misto sighed, taking it back and tossing it on the table. He wrapped them all around a chopstick he'd filed down, and popped them in an envelope, sealing it with more thread and a complicated bow. Hell yeah. He rolled passed his sister's boyfriend and got to the stairs. He began his crawl up, not using his left leg at all as he cambered. Once at the top he got into his upstairs chair and rolled to his room. His thigh was turning green around the edges, and though it was still nasty, he knew it was healing.

Climbing into bed, he thanked his lucky stars to have such a sweet family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/4KWnlX8F2Xs
> 
> Kudos live is up there, a whole video of my trying to read and failing miserably uwu
> 
> https://youtu.be/Av_3t4dD8qA
> 
> For the COMMENTERS *blows kiss*
> 
> And my Ko-fi.... Cause corona made my job not let me come in until July.... 
> 
> Ko-fi/inerdmuch


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like quarantine will kill me. I'm currently rewatching the Owl house (I watched it for the first time 2 days ago) and I haven't spoken to anyone physically in ages outside my immediate family.
> 
> But you know cats is there so-

MistyWisty: can the twins drive

Rumplejerrie: first up rude

Mungoteazer: second of all yes. Why.

MistyWisty: come get y'all juice.

RmTmTggr: wth I want cake T-T

MistyWisty: oh ye come get ur bracelets too they're done and I can't be bothered to give u them on Monday

RmTmTggr:.... R u actually coming back so soon.

Rumplejerrie: what do u think he's maniacal. Nasty gremlin child, feral.

Mungoteazer: ngl was us until he came along. But ya were coming, we'll pick up tugz on the way. Hope ur ready for the twisty twins terrifying two bikes boi

RmTmTggr: OK fine but those bikes best not still be painted like clowns

MistyWisty: I mean there's clowns riding them if that counts UWU

The cat was quickly closed as variations of 'hOW DARE' flooded in, and he snorted. He knew it would be a while until they got there, so he set to fixing his hair. It was having a bad day, fuzzing all over the place, but he kinda liked the look. He grinned and pulled the cake out of the fridge. The haunting OwO hidden in the right ear with the message 'What's This?' emblazoned on the front was magnificent (of course it tastes perfect too, he'd sampled it when trimming it down). He set it on a plate and pulled out a knife and a few plates. He was hobbling about now, able to walk without too much difficulty. He'd be dancing by the end of the week, no doubt. Maybe Stolas could teach him some magic healing skills. Snorting at the idea, he kept fussing with his hair. 

He slid a hand into it, letting the tangles catch. He really couldn't be bothered to deal with it right then. He grabbed a length of elastic from a drawer and simply tugged it into a sort of bun at the back of his head. There. Now he didn't have to deal with it, and it looked kinda cute. He stuck a butterfly clip into it, thankful that his sister kept a tuppereade container with various odds and ends at the kitchen door. Misto sighed and leaned on the door. 

He'd missed his friends all week. They'd been at school, and he'd been at home, wasting his days away. He had finished so many episodes of Strictly Come Dancing he felt like he was going to explode, and if he attempted to sing karaoke on their gaming system again he was going to scream. He didn't ignore the fact that he'd actually managed to spend time alone without fear clawing at his head. He hadn't fallen into any bouts of paranoia at the idea of Macavity. That was definitely worth the gold stars he kept sticking on his sister's books. Victoria definitely didn't mind. She said they were cute; apparent it started a trend in her class. 

There was a spluttering of engines outside, and then three pairs of footsteps up the gravel and to the front door. He hurried to open it, and there they all were, just as boisterous and crazy as ever. He glanced at the twin's motorcycles. They were painted like calico cats, mirror images of each other, and clearly well cared for. He grinned. He suspected nothing less. 

"Aw, Misto!" Rumpleteazer squealed, sweeping him into a hug that lifted him from the floor. He tried to breathe as she swung him from side to side. "We missed you! We were gonna get a sweet prank in, but then you weren't in school, so we laid it off. Also, where's the cake?" 

"Oh my god, Rumple," Mungojerrie drawled, tugging Misto into his grasp. He petted his head sarcastically. He was still off the floor. "You can't just greet someone, smother them, then demand cake. You have to let me do it as well. Where's the cake, small fry?" 

"Nice to see you too, kitchen, please let me breathe," Misto gasped out. He was set on the floor, where he took deep breaths. The twins scattered to the kitchen, leaving him to say his final hello. "Hi Tugger. Your bracelets are in the envelope in the kitchen, sorry if they aren't too exact." 

"Nah, I think they'll be cool anyway," Tugger grinned. He offered his arm, and Misto took it. Together they traipse into the kitchen, where the twins were about to cut into the cake. As the knife hit the center, the balloon inside burst, causing a miniature explosion inside the cake. It crumbled, and left the twins splattered with blue and white frosting. Tugger snorted. 

"I warned you I'd get you back for the cream," Misto said smugly. They shared a look of horror. Then Rumpleteazer shrugged and scraped some cake onto a plate and grabbed a fork. Mungojerrie followed. "At least you'll eat the damn thing. It took ages to bake it with the balloon in there, and four exploded in the oven. I think the girls are done with cake for a century." 

As they dug in, Misto scraped some cake onto two plates for him and Tugger to share. He turned around to a severely bizarre sight. 

Tugger sat on the floor, tying bracelets on his ankles. Apparently he could only fit two on his wrists without compromising his 'look', but he began securing the other four to his ankles. He'd removed the first one Misto gave him to wind on his left ankle with the ocean looking one. On his other ankle, he put the sparkly magic one. On his wrist he wore the leopard spotted colour fade and the cat faces. He kept the lavender one in his pocket, and stood up, looking very pleased with himself. Misto gave him a thumbs up and offered him his plate. Tugger took it and began eating with as much gusto as the twins. 

"You know, I never properly said thanks for the cookies," Tugger said, finishing his plate. The twins sent them identical confused looks. "So, uh, thanks. They were a big reason I wanted the cake too."

"Mama always said he'd make a great housewife, if only for his cooking," Victoria said from the doorway. The twins put on their least guilty expression, which made them look guilty of something anyway, despite the fact they'd done nothing. Misto glanced outside. How has he not heard the car? Victoria rolled her eyes. She opened the fridge and took out a large orange juice carton. She popped a straw in the top, and began drinking directly from it. Misto made a face. "Shut up. I bought it, I drink it how I please." 

"Yeah, but do you have to be like that?" He groaned. He muttered about how it was 'unhygenic' and 'a waste of juice they could have shared'; at least until Victoria sent him a look for it. He stuck his tongue out when no one was looking. 

The four of them settled into easy conversation, mostly sitting wherever they wanted. The terror twins took the table top. Tugger grabbed a chair and crouched on it. Misto hopped on the counter and began pushing a cupboard door between his palms. Victoria sat backwards on a chair, leaning over the back rest. Of course, just as the conversation turned weird, Demeter walked in from the garden. She had gone on a walk that morning, and unfortunately she entered to a kitchen full of people who apparently couldn't sit like humans, talking about whether or not people should have been born with tails. She rubbed her eyes, took a look at her water bottle as if inspecting it for drugs, and cleared her throat. 

"I'm sorry, but what?" She half asked. 

"Well, we're sat like this because none of us are straight," Mungojerrie said seriously. 

"And we're discussing the pros and cons of being born with tails for balance," Rumpleteazer finished, equally serious. "Pull up a chair or whatever, we're evenly split right now." 

"No thanks, I'm gonna retain my sanity and watch Mean Girls again," She firmly said. The group shrugged collectively, and went back into debate mode. 

-*-*-

"I'm just saying, if we had tails, then we could have a much better understanding of body language!" Victoria protested. It was dark outside. They had moved about in the time they were talking, but they seemed to still not be using chairs correctly. At this point, Tugger was upside down, hanging off the table. "We wouldn't have to stick with verbal conversations!" 

"But we have sign language for that," argued Mungojerrie. He, Misto and Rumpleteazer were team no tails, while the others were team tails. He seemed proud of this point, until Misto spoke up. 

"But that's a whole 'bother kind of body language. Vic probably meant, you know," he wiggled his hips. It wasn't very effective, and he was now on a chair, and sat side saddle. It still got him a few laughs. "But no, we can still know our body language now. Tails are just a mess, I can only think of the pain they'd cause. Not to mention, people would do stupid stuff to them for fashion." 

"No, but like, the flair! It's basically just another body part, surely you could dye it like your hair, and simply fold it to a cool length?" Tugger said. He mimed swinging a tail. "I think it could be really cool, especially if all tails were unique to the person." 

Rumpleteazer got a dastardly look in her eye about that, and leaned in, very close, to team tails. 

"I bet you two are furries," she said, and the blow was struck. Tugger sputtered, looking indignant, whilst Victoria just cackled hysterically at the notion. "There's nothing wrong with them, they're a great community. But I bet you two are the biggest closet furries." 

"Muh, Misto used to pretend to be a c-cat!" Screeched Victoria, pointing at her brother. She howled with laughter. "When we were like six, God, I have pictures!" 

"VICTORIA!" Misto whined in embarrassment. "I was SIX! It was a game of PRETEND!" 

But it was too late. The group was already cooing over pictures of him dressed in his little cat onsie, a chubby little six year old squished between his parents and sister. Victoria was in a little white cat onsie, but as a four year old, didn't seem too interested in anything but watching her toys on the carpet. He tried to swipe her phone: however the damage was done. He growled (read: squeaked) as he was immediately fawned over by Rumpleteazer. She cooed at the pictures, and even compared him to them as he stood there, looking betrayed.

"Put them away!" He complained, and finally, Victoria did. "I get it, I'm adorable, whatever, but seriously, those are so embarrassing." 

"Sorry Misto, if you really didn't want them out-" Victoria said awkwardly, looking uncomfy with doing something he wasn't prepared for. 

"It's fine, but you realise I will be babied further," He said from the confines of Mungojerrie's arms. He was being coddled. "I blame you for this. I'll forgive you never for this torturous position." Mungojerrie hugged him tighter, abd he melted. Okay, it was actually quite nice to be hugged so thoroughly. 

Slowly the conversation tapered off, until they all started saying their goodbyes. The twins got a tupperware container with the rest of their cake, safely put in the little compartment on Mungojerrie's bike. Tugger gave him one last hug and squeezed onto the back of his bike, and before they knew it the trio were just red lights on the driveway, then on the street, then gone. 

Misto stayed at the door for a good few minutes after that. He wanted them to stay, and to run after them. He pushed those urges deep inside of him and closed the door. He prepared himself for bed, pulling on sleep shorts and a massive shirt, brushing his teeth and letting his hair loose. Victoria wondered into his room as he opened a book he'd been meaning to read, and gave him a soft look. He smiled at her. 

"This is so much better," he half whispered. She nodded, and gave him a long look, until he sighed and held up his duvet. She scrambled in and pulled out her phone. She got to texting and he got to reading, leaning on each other and taking simple joy in being close. At least, until she kicked him, and he kicked her, and they got into a miniature wrestling match that ended up with them so tangled in the blankets it took eons to get out. Even so it was probably the best time he'd spent with his sister in ages. She waved goodnight, and flicked his lights witch just so he couldn't read. He rolled his eyes and dog eared his page. He could finish it tomorrow, he supposed. 

Outside, the wind danced and the last leaves of autumn fell. Winter was approaching, and soon enough it would burst back to spring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's my usual money links
> 
> UGHN My Ko-fi link
> 
> Ko-fi/inerdmuch
> 
> Uhhhh my paypal 
> 
> chloevanwyk06@gmail.com
> 
> AND ALSO A BIG OL HUG FOR ALL MY SWEET READERS I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH TAKE CARE OKAY


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:
> 
> MENTIONS OF ABUSE
> 
> STALKING LETTERS
> 
> TALKING OF PAST ABUSE
> 
> Macavity in grneral

Of course, he couldn't fully dance in lessons yet. He knew this. So during ballet, he worked to the side, mostly taking notes on the footwork and practicing at the barre that he could lean on. Mistress Babette gave him a scornful look, but didn't say anything. He ignored her, and worked on his plié. It hurt to stretch his thigh, but he really needed to work on his basics. As he stretched and flexed his feet, he let his mind wander. It seemed the whole class were nearly finished with the final dance for this term. They'd get a grade on it from an external examiner, and they each had to do a composition. He knew a few people were having troubles with theirs, and he knew he was too. They had been allowed to choose music, but he just couldn't decide on anything solid. He had a base framework for his dance, but no song seemed to fit it well enough.

He sighed in frustration as the lesson ended and he began to pack up. He wasn't even tired, he'd barely moved! God, he wanted to dance. It had been stupid to overstretch, but afterwards, being held by so many people was actually... Quite nice? He knew only Victoria really hugged or touched him, and it was starting to be an issue. No longer did touch repulse him as it had with Macavity. Now it felt like addiction. He wanted a hug. Of course, that lead to the many convoluted plans forming in his head as he walked out and toward the cafeteria.

Help him reach something by lifting him? Nah, they'd just get it down for him themselves. Maybe he could pretend his thigh really hurt, and he needed carrying! But, then Victoria would do it, and as much as he loved his sister, he needed someone to drown him in a hug. He knew Rumpleteazer and Mungojerrie liked holding him, that much was obvious after last week, but it would be weird to just... Ask. That wasn't the way to go.

He took out his notebook and started marking down ideas. Unfortunately, his head was hung low, and he didn't notice the younger boy coming toward him until they collided. Misto fell to the floor, book snapping shut, and pen flying a few feet away. It sent a shock through his thigh, and instinctively he made an involuntary noise of pain. The boy looked apologetic, and scrambled to pick up his pen.

"Ah, I'm so sorry," he said, helping Misto up. "I didn't... See you there." He was staring at the name on his bag.

"Its okay, my mistake," Misto said, and began walking off with a bit of a limp. He breathed heavily through his teeth for a moment. Unfortunately, the boy called after him.

"Hey, uh, Quaxo? Some guy told me to give this to you," he called, before rushing over and shoving a note into his hands. Misto stared at it as the boy continued. "He uh, said he knew you but couldn't get to you, and that he 'missed you'. He says there's a present waiting at your house, I think?"

"Uh. Thanks," Misto said slowly. The boy gave him a grin with too many teeth, and disappeared. Misto stared at the spot he'd just been. The smell of magic was everywhere now, and the smoke of the poofed boy was drifting downward in deep black spirals. Oh please no. Please no. It could only mean one thing, and he begged it was a mistake. He opened the letter with shaky hands, and began to read it in the empty corridor. He barely got two words in before turning to lean against a wall. Better to not be exposed all around. He steeled himself and began reading.

_Sweet Quaxo;_

_I've learned a few new tricks, as you can tell! The boy you just met was a younger version of myself, a memory I created to be a messenger. It's a fun new magic I could teach you. I get it, I scared you before, but it was only because I love you. Note the present tense. Meet me in the park you ran too after being discovered for the first time, for a special meeting. I miss you. Don't forget to bring the present with you!_

_~ Macavity ~_

After snapping a few shaky pictures (evidence, evidence, his mind whispered, sounding eerily like Munkustrap), Misto crumpled the letter and burned it in his fist. Not caring who saw (not that anybody was there anyway), he tossed the scorched and withered remains into a waste bin. He felt his magic seethe against the confines of his body, anger gasoline to the flame. He simmered, trying to null the sparks that wanted to leap from his hands. He shakily dialled his sister, and immediately told her what had happened.

"Okay, Misto, what I need you to do is come down to the old gym," Victoria said after a few moments of hushed talk on the other end of the phone. "We need to escalate this immediately. Where's the letter now?"

"It... Burned up after I read it," Misto half-lied. "I got pictures though. I'll be there in ten, I think I really need to let off some steam."

"That's good, Misto," she said. "That means you can translate more emotions than fear from him."

"I'm angry because I'm scared," Misto hissed, but not cruelly. Victoria winced at that. He hung up and loped out of the building, and followed the paths. The old gym was never used, what with being half burned down. It was an overgrown mess. Covered in ivy and moss, it wasn't open really. The main structure held up well enough, but was generally unusable due to the lack of wiring, lost support beams and warped floors. Misto wandered in and saw that no one was there. In his frustration, he managed to throw a few strong bursts of magic. He made lightning bolts appear with illusions, conjured piles of dirt from the corners to the centre and then sent them back again until they flickered with speed and precision. He only stopped sending out purple and blue sparks when he heard voices approaching. He breathed out calmly, and made sure he did not look like he'd just had a terrified temper tantrum and a magical meltdown. 

Victoria was the first one to walk in. She stayed back, and waited for everyone to finally be in. Munkustrap was there, ready to talk about what laws this broke, holding a book as thick as one of his thighs. The twins stood at the door, whispering to each other, and gazing about with sketchy looks. Mungojerrie nodded at him. Finally was Tugger, wearing his bracelets and looking for the whole world like someone who was just wanting to support everyone.

"Victoria, I think if this continues I'll just pack my bags and move to Arkansas," Misto said a little helplessly. They stood fifteen meters apart and he walked forward a bit to close the gap. His palms were covered in dirt, so he wiped them on his jeans until they were clean. "He really can't get me there."

"But seriously, this time we can actually get him jail time," piped up Munkustrap. He gave a strong look of determination to his massive book. He opened it and started page flipping. As the 'thwip' of paper being flicked at filled the empty room, Misto sighed and sank delicately onto a chair left out in the middle. There were quite a few strewn about.

"Viccy, my delicate disposition can't take this," he said. She knew better than to laugh at the morose attempt at humour. He was shaking like a leaf in a tornado. She pulled up a chair from the ground and sat in it. "Can we go back to before this whole mess?"

"Before or after we were kicked out?" She asked. Misto flicked his eyes over to their little... 'audience'. Victoria nodded very slowly, and he smiled wanly.

"Oh, after. The witchcraft accusations were getting annoying. Maybe when we couch-surfed around Cambridge, that was cool," he said, staring at the floor. He snorted. "I think witchcraft sounds pretty cool. Wanna make potions like we did at seven?"

"Nah, you made the potions, I just fetched ingredients," she protested. The whole group had started murmuring amongst themselves. It continued like this, little quips about what they'd been through, until a horrible hacking cough from Mungojerrie cut the quiet like a chainsaw does a piece of paper. 

"Uh yeah, not to interrupt, but I'm sensing a big group hug is needed," called out Mungojerrie. Rumpleteazer whacked his arm. "What? You told me to say it! I said it!"

"No, dumbass, I said it looked like we could all use a hug! And you claim to be an actor, that was the worst thing I've ever seen," Rumpleteazer scolded. Tugger snorted, and wrapped an arm around them both. He motioned over to the other set of siblings, and Victoria hopped over immediately. Misto followed, and then Munkustrap joined. They all stood there, a bundle of several young adults. It was warm and perfect, and Misto nearly cried, this is what he'd needed! He'd needed this hug for ages now, and he was getting what he wanted so desperately. He didn't want to let go.

Of course, they all did. They had to let go eventually. Misto held back more weeping as he was left feeling a little too cold. He rubbed at his arms and forced himself to ignore the desperate calls for more intimacy around him. Now wasn't the time.

"So, we need to go to the police, obviously," Munkustrap said. "Twins, you and Victoria head to Demeter's House. Check for the mysterious 'gift' that Macavity said was there, and send any images you find. Tugger and I will take Misto to the police, and then get him home. If we deduce it's not safe, we'll take him to our house or the twin's flat. Now, driving arrangements."

"Take the bikes," Rumpleteazer said, tossing them two sets of keys. "Spare helmet in mine, for Misto. We'll take the car. Best be warned, if anything happens to those bikes, I swear to all deities on high... You will die."

They all nodded, with finality, and then everything set into motion.

The two teams named themselves. Team Safehouse would be Victoria, and the twins. Team Witness Protection would be the other three. Speed dials were set, and bags were put into the boot of the car. Misto watched it putter off, and gave a half hearted wave to Victoria. She waved back, and it made his heart lighten up a little bit. He and the brothers turned to the bikes, and hit a road block. Two bikes. Three passengers.

"Misto, get on mine, I'm more confident on a motorcycle," Tugger said, passing him a helmet. It was black, with two white lightning stripes and blue flowers. Misto rolled his eyes. At least it was SOMEWHAT in his colour scheme. The other helmets were painted like matching Calico Cats. Tugger climbed astride, and watched Munkustrap pull away. Misto scrambled on behind him. He perched there, unsure. What was he supposed to do; he'd never been on a motorcycle before. Sensing his confusion, Tugger turned to him.

"Hold on to my waist, really tight." Misto wrapped his arms around Tugger, and the engine revved. They started moving. His eyes opened after a few nerve wracking moments and his breath was blown away. The scenery blended as they drove, all he could hear was the engine. The alluring ground raced underneath them, tarmac glistening with rain from yesterday. People's faces were snatched away with speed. The air was cold, but not painfully so, and he had the windbreaker of someone in front of him. The air smelled sharp and the soft purr between his legs and swallowing him up was something he'd never imagined. He didn't dare let go. He jerked as they added more speed and flew down the street. Misto found there was another way to be exhilarated, other than dancing.

Too soon and yet not soon enough, they drew up outside the station, where Munkustrap was dismounting and putting away his helmet. Tugger did the same, before helping Misto clamber down as well. With a deep breath, the three of them walked in. They took a seat, as the man at the desk was talking to a woman about putting up posters for her lost dog. Misto felt his phone buzz and quickly opened the picture that Victoria sent him.

On the front porch was a small, yellow box. Victoria had carefully opened it, and was holding up a long, white whip. His stomach turned. He tried not to throw up at the memory of that whip, and some of Macavity's more forceful nights with him. He remembered it most from the night he'd said he was tired. Misto remembered being very, very tired after that. He quickly typed out a message.

MistyWisty: put that back in the box and burn it. you don't want to know what it was used for.

ViccyToryButNotATory: evidence? Also wat do u mean by I don't wanna kno

MistyWisty: fine. but don't touch it. If the twins are reading, this next bit isn't for u so leave.   
-  
-  
-  
macavity had some wild interests.

ViccyToryButNotATory: oh I'm killing him.

His conversation was cut off as he was gently nudged by Tugger. He got up and went to the desk, looking for all the world as if he wasn't about to immediately hide and cry.

"Hi, I have a restraining order against someone and I believe he's broken the rules," Misto said. The police officer gave him a solid look of 'are you sure'? "My name is Quaxo Mistoffelees, and my order is against Macavity. He contacted me today, which breaks the restraining order, and sent a threatening object to the place I live."

"Evidence," the man said, clearly uninterested. Misto gave him his phone and directed him to the pictures of the letter. "Anything physical?"

"Not, well, not on me?" Misto said, confused. The man sighed.

"I'll get someone to look into it, or whatever. I've downloaded the photo. Bring some actual evidence, and things might actually move forward. Next!"

Misto nodded slowly. Of course that wasn't enough. He'd just have to go home and... Well. Was it safe to even go home? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rember children..... ACAB....
> 
> BUT YEAH THAT WAS A HEAVY CHAPTER. NOW IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME I'M GOING TO MY SAFETY BUNKER TO HIDE. 
> 
> Paypal;
> 
> Chloevanwyk06@gmail.com
> 
> Kofi
> 
> Ko-fi/inerdmuch


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me writing this: he he fluff
> 
> Me posting this: ah ha ha Eboy Mungojerrie lmaoooo

"Welcome to our crib," Rumpleteazer said, opening the door of their apartment. It was spacious; windows around most rooms, warm coloured wood flooring, snacks on bowls set at random spaces around there. Mungojerrie had a hard time eating full meals, so tended to just snack throughout the day, until he was full. Sensory issues. "Ya, just ignore the faulty light in the bathroom, and uh, eat what you want. Do we have any fruit or vegetables?"

"I think we have carrots, and maybe some plums," Mungojerrie replied, not the bothered. He jumped onto his couch, letting the springs creak loudly as it settled. He wriggled until he was upside down. "Oh, fuck yes, Adventure Time. Misto, your room is third to the left."

"Right. Thanks again, by the way. Its much better to be somewhere less open," Misto said. Rumpleteazer cooed and squeezed him in her arms.

"Anything for a friend of ours! Anyway, do you think you'd pass for a twelve year old?" She asked. He gave her a look. She shrugged, and giggled. She had a nice laugh; high pitched but not grating. She released him, and he wandered over to his designated room. He knew now that he'd be subject to a lot of touching. The twins were known for their physical affection. He grinned to himself, and opened the door.

He had a bed and closet, and a table with a mirror behind it. There was a window, high up, and small, which he liked. No one could look in then. Irrational as a fear, being four stories up. He shook his head and began packing away his clothes for the next few days. It was well decided that he would be staying there until the ordeal blew over. No one would come near the apartment as it had extensive security. He sighed as he folded up a pair of light blue jeans. He needed to see Stolas tomorrow. He took out two large candles and set them on the table with the mirror. He had a light, but the atmosphere that the candles held was a bit more to his taste. He thought of his wax covered desk at Demeter's house and winced. He'd need to scrape that off at some point.

Lighting the candles, he waited for the scent to slowly fill the room. He'd brought his sweetest two: one cherry and the other vanilla. He nodded in satisfaction. Soon enough he'd put everything away, and left out his extra bits and bobs on the table. He blew out the candles. Better not leave them burning in an unfamiliar place.

He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His phone played soft music beside him, by some band he'd never heard of. He breathed deeply, trying to not think of what having to hide actually meant. He knew it meant Macavity knew he was scared. But he didn't really bring himself to care what Macavity thought. He's been basing two years of his life on what the bastard had wanted. Wear this. Do that. Ugh. Macavity had liked him in reds and oranges. Macavity liked him in loose clothes. Macavity liked him when his hair was short against his head.

Misto hated that.

He stormed over to the closet and raked his eyes through his clothes. He took every red and orange item out of it, then threw them on the bed. He took out anything that looked vaguely like Macavity's style. The pile grew exceedingly high. Once finished, he ran a hand down his face. He had money to spend, though not a lot. He'd have to go clothes shopping. Not to mention what he would wear to court. He groaned. Maybe the twins would know what to do? They seemed so cool, so untouchable, yet so down to earth. They knew that there would be consequences for their actions then did them anyway.

He left the monstrous pile of nauseating fabrics and went to find the two of them. It wasn't hard; they were on their fourth episode of Adventure Time. He wandered behind them. Unsure. He gingerly sat himself on the end of the couch, and they barely acknowledged him. They cheered as Finn chopped some monster in half.

"Even though he hits on a lesbian, Finn is sick," Mungojerrie said, eating popcorn. "Call that himbo energy. Yo, Misto, we heard you moving stuff in the room. Not your kinda Feng sui?"

"Nah, just getting some stuff to donate to the clothes bank. I need some new stuff, wanna come?" Rumpleteazer shared a knowing look with him. Misto raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged, but backed off.

"Yeah, why not. We can go this afternoon, if you want. It's only like, three," Rumpleteazer said, glancing at the clock on the wall. It had been badly painted. It still seemed made with love. "Come on, let's go. We'll drop those clothes off, but first, Jerrie and I will take a gander because, no offence, some of your shirts may make pretty cute crop tops."

"Yeah, okay, I'll grab my jacket," Misto said. They all traipsed off to his room. As he pulled on a leather jacket, he noted Mungojerrie taking two orange shirts and red shorts. At least he liked them. Rumpleteazer ruffled about until she held out three yellow and orange ombre shirts. He envied them, sometimes. He'd never pulled them off right, but just looking at her, he knew she'd be stunning. 

All sorted, they put the remaining clothes into bags and shoved them in the compartments on the back of both the bikes. The clothes bank was in the parking lot of the shopping complex, so at least they didn't have far to walk.

Finally, they went into the first store, and suddenly the twins were brand new people.

"Okay, Rumpleteazer, you get any and all good looking shirts, I'd say size medium, maybe small. Try a few skintight options, cool colour palatte, keep it elegant and aloof," Mungojerrie declared, a mad spark in his eye. "I will get whatever trousers and or shorts I deem fit. Misto, wait by the changing rooms, and we will be there in... Ten minutes?"

"Make it five," Rumpleteazer trilled, already zooming off to find new articles. Mungojerrie left an after-image as he sped off.

Okay.

Misto rolled his eyes and strolled casually to the changing rooms. Once there he began to play a game on his phone. It was a simple colour connect game but he was drawn in. A good thing too, because right next to him was a child, who looked very interested in being a nuisance. The kid watched over his shoulder, entranced. Misto swiped a few times and the round was won easily. Take that, generated puzzle! He started a new game, and the child leaned further in until they were touching. Now Misto was very uncomfortable. He shuffled away, and the mother of the boy finally arrived out of the changing rooms. She lead him away, but he glanced back, eyes trained in on the phone, still interested.

It took longer than five minutes, but the Twins shoved things into his arms and pointed him to the dressing room. He went in, and changed without looking too much at what he was choosing. He stepped out, and immediately was told what he'd done wrong.

"No! Those don't match at all. Those shimmer jeans, in pearly ivory, are meant to go with the top with organza sleeves and faux pearls," Rumpleteazer complained.

"Yes, and that shirt, with the puffed and ruffled black sleeve on dark blue was meant to go with the highwaist midnight jeans with the blue flowers on the sides," Mungojerrie said, sagely. Misto nodded, slightly confused. He'd liked it, but he supposed he'd just get changed into what they each wanted.

So firstly, change the shirt to the black one with pearls. They weren't real, but they certainly added something. He stared on the mirror for several moments. It actually looked... Really nice. He twirled, and the light caught in the faint shimmer if the white jeans. Unfortunately, the pockets felt very small. He stepped out again.

"Are these womens trousers?" He half-comained. The twins looked at each other and shrugged. "These pockets are miniscule."

"Yeah, they're womens. But yes, this outfit is fire, and I am pretty sure you'd outshine Tugger at a party dressed like that," Rumpleteazer judged. Misto blushed a little. High praise, as Tugger was incredibly attractive. He stepped back into the changing rooms, and set the outfit on his 'yes' pile.

They wasted four hours like that. He'd come out, and be told yes or no, then asked what he thought, then put it in a pile. The blue flower jeans were a yes, but the top that went with it was a no. The purple shirt with a half cape was a definite yes, but the maroon jeans were a hard pass. The magenta shirt was just tossed on the no pile before even being tried on. A half beaded neckline in white on a black chiffon shirt, with gold stars and moons was a yes before he'd even fully picked it up. They kept it fun, with a few ridiculous outfits in mind. He'd actually quite liked the pink squid hat. The googly eyes were funny. But alas, as the clock struck seven, they left, with a bag each.

They next went into a tattoo parlour. Misto had wanted his ears pierced for ages, but Macavity told him they weren't his style, and that he shouldn't mutilate his body. The twins had simply egged him on as he'd mentioned it while passing Claire's Accessories. They'd pulled him away from the garish pink and fluffy nightmare and to a reputable establishment. Rumpleteazer told him all about it.

"I got an industrial piercing here," she explained, showing him the bar in her ear. "I also got three on the left and one on the right."

"Whereas I got one on the left and three on the right," Mungojerrie said. "I don't have an industrial, but I used to have a tongue. I just wear ones that aren't too noticeable on campus."

Misto smiled weakly.

"How bad does it hurt?" He said meekly, even as they stepped in.

"Ears weren't so bad," the chorused, in the most discomforting manner possible. 

Misto gulped, but still quickly asked at the desk. The lady behind it looked him up and down. She put his name down, and pointed to the chairs. He'd have to wait about ten minutes, the artist needed to prepare the needles. Misto wasn't really afraid of needles, but it still made his stomach clench to think of them. He'd signed up for a double helix on his left ear and studs in his lobes. He looked at the pictures on the wall of all the pure artwork that the tattoo artists made. He really appreciated fine work. Tattoos were something he'd considered, but now he was careful in his decision. Professional dancers tended not to get tattoos anywhere overtly seen. 

All too soon yet not soon enough, he was lying on a table, ears slightly numbed and disinfected. He was alone, not wanting his friends to see him if he cried. The artist told him they'd do the lobes first, and move in from there. So he braced himself.

It felt like a scratch, then the area felt warm, and then it started to itch a little. The artist moved to the other side and the sensation repeated. He opened his eyes to see a mirror being held and frowned. Was this a before and after thing? He'd already taken photos... Oh.

He had two studs now. They were plain white, simple circles of metal painted. He admired them. He looked older than fourteen now, and he liked that. He had barely felt any pain, so he grinned at the artist, who looked pleased at their work. Their name tag read 'Sam'.

"Thanks, Sam," he said, a genuine smile on his face. They looked happy with that, and gestured for him to lay back down for the helix. He lay back and closed his eye again. He felt them touch his ear, and then- OH SHIT. It hurt far worse, and he felt tears spring to his eyes. The second one was done quickly after, and he slammed a fist on the table. Dear God, that hurt. Sam patted his arm. Misto wiped his tears and looked in the mirror again. Oh yes. That was perfect. Now he could see them, they were worth the pain.

Two little black hoops hung on the outer shell of his ear. They made a soft clicking noise when he moved his head as they slid across each other. He loved them more than the first pair.

"Sam, you are a miracle worker," he said. Sam gave him a thumb up, miming jumping up and down as they helped him up from the reclined chair. They waved as he left the room to go and pay. It was not below fifty pounds, and he wondered for a second if it was worth it. Then he thought of the talent it took to shove needles in people's skin and not hurt them. A decent price to pay. Then he turned to the twins, who were looking at him eagerly.

"Welcome to looking like you're actually nineteen," Rumpleteazer teased. Misto laughed it off, and reached up to gently slim the helix. They stung, but they looked so good. "We still have cleaning solution, but saltwater works too."

"Damn, Misto, you went from like a six to a nine and a half," Mungojerrie said. It was clearly in jest, as he was leaning back and stroking his chin like the people did sometimes on the app Victoria liked. "Ah ha ha, yes, ah ha ha ha."

Rumpleteazer slapped him upside the head, and they left, still laughing and talking. Misto thought to himself; he deserved this. He had needed a break from everything, and this little trip had given it to him. Now all he had to worry about was the tight helmet and his poor ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck you they all watch tik tok cause they're all gay.
> 
> UwU hope yall enjoyed this one, I'm living vicariously through fictional characters. At least I shaved my head. 
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	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy guys how yall doing I'm gonna fuckin stab something I'm so lonely.
> 
> Also I bought a very nice dress that I'm not allowed to wear without a ruffled petticoat because it's (heaven forbid) above the knee and therefore only for harlots. So as you can tell I'm upset, especially because the dress had strawberries on it and I really like strawberries. I do not in fact own a ruffled petticoat, only a three layered hoop skirt that goes to my ankles.

"You pierced your ears?" Gasped Victoria, cradling his head and tilting it to different lights. Misto let her. He was wearing some of his new clothes, as a treat, and today he was feeling confidant about his looks. Victoria fiddled with his crooked sleeves for a moment, and patted his cheek. It wasn't a soft pat, but then again, siblings had to keep appearances. He stuck his tongue out and pretended to try and lick her. Unfazed, she stepped away and took his hands in hers. "I have a class, but when I get back, we will discuss this further. It looks good."

He waved lazily as she jogged off, and strolled to the entrance of Stolas's supposed 'live, laugh, luton' cave. He waited until the corridor was empty, tapped the bricks, and hurried in. He took the usual route. Standing at the altar, he didn't bother with the incantation, and just knocked a few times. There was a coalescence of smoke, the hoot of an howl, the breeze of wings beating and then; Stolas, in their face-masked glory, looking at him suspiciously. Eyes raking him up and down, making aborted movements all around his face in clear curiosity. Their eues brightened, and a smile tore through their beak. They leaned forward. If he couldn't smell Victoria's Secret bottled spray before, he could now. 

"I'm loving this look, mate," They cooed, gesturing to all of him. Stolas leant back, floating and bobbing gently. They wiped away the face mask, leaving plush looking feathers behind. They started applying foundation in the wirnf tone. "What's up. I know there's summin, because you've got the look you have when you're, like, thinking."

"First up, can you help me learn healing spells?" Misto asked. Stolas gave him a once over, snapped their talons, and every scrape and bruise on him vanishes so suddenly he almost felt like his skin was sucked off. It felt like he was in a vaccum for a brief moment, and Stolas definitely thought his look of sudden terror funny. He glanced at his uninjured body. At least he wasn't a weird colour or animal now. "Oh. Well, thank you."

"Misty, you're incredibly powerful, love, but you still have this mental cap thing that's hinderin' ya magic," They said gently. Tossing back their clip in ponytail, they added lipstick to their beak in a compact mirror. "You can't do stuff like healing until you've let yourself do magic fully." Misto sighed heavily. Stolas gave him a soothing pat, and they began their lesson. There wasn't much to improve on. Though he had the 'mental cap', as Stolas put it, Misto could do a lot. He'd even started doing basic (very basic) elemental magic. He could conjure fire well enough, as Macavity had taught him. He was confident with earth, and could even bend water around him into interesting shapes. Unfortunately, his control over air wasn't as strong. Sure he could sent a gust of wind out. Sure he could create a breeze. Could he control the strength, or direction? Absolutely not, don't be absurd.

"Well, this has been fun," Misto breezed, picking up his bags. Stolas noticed his eagerness to go, and his disappointment at not being able to do much. He was bugged by his mental cap more than he let on and Stolas didn't need to be a goetuc demon of knowledge to pick up on it. "But I have a lesson in ten, so I have to go. Any tips for the mental block?"

"Do I look like an anthropologist? I dunno how you lot work, just like, let go of fear or summin'. Whatever. Bye hun," Stolas said, seeping back down into the stone. Before they left, the sent him a sympathetic look and spritzer him with scented glitter spray. He wasn't complaining, but he'd hoped for something, well, useful. Misto sighed heavily and also left, confused, and hurried to his Jazz lesson. He made it barely in time to warm up, and smirked as Bomba stared at him stretching like he'd never been hurt at all. Bless that demon. Or, don't, actually. That would most likely kill them. 

He quickly caught up on the new techniques and sections they'd been learning. He had a few issues with a lift, so Madam Lucy stepped in with a brilliant idea.

"How about, instead of you carrying Tantomile, she lifts you?" She asked, smiling happily. Misto felt a little unsure, and it clearly showed in his face, because Tantomile looked slightly indignant. He straightened his features apologetically. "She won't drop you, dear. Does it just feel wrong because you've always been the one lifting?"

"I am perfectly fine with being lifted, I don't doubt I will be fine," he hurriedly assured. "It's just that I'm unsure if I can get the right elevation after my kick. I really don't want anyone hurt."

Bomba snorted loudly at that. The trio turned to stare at her. She sauntered over, and grabbed Misto by the ankle. She lifted his leg until it was pointed at the ceiling. Then she let go, and he held it there, confused.

"You can get the elevation. Jemima can't reach that high, and she's done the lift perfectly several times now." Bombalurina walked back to where she, Cassandra and Jemima were practicing. She gave him a pointed look, and Misto swallowed. Yeah. He could probably do this. The only issue really was the placement of the hands. To do this lift, he had to jump and kick a leg up and lean back into Tantomile's arms, and then lean against her hands after she slid them underneath him to be lifted up and onto her shoulder, then spun and finally slide down her arm to stand on the floor. Her hands would come under his thighs in close proximity to a certain area he didn't want anyone near.

But was that hypocritical? After all, none of the girls had complained, and he'd done this. Technically, he had supported behind their knees before. This was a whole new level of touch he wasn't sure he was ready for. He shook his head, and nodded at Tantomile. Madam Lucy stepped back, and they tried it. He jumped back and up. Okay. His leg kicked to the right height, and he was perfectly positioned for the lift. Good. Tantomile caught his thighs. Oh no. He instinctively went limp in panic, therefore tumbling out of her arms and onto the floor. Bad. This in turned caused everyone to stare at him. Worse. He was going to start crying. Probably the worst thing to happen to him at all.

And then Cassandra helped him up and he wiped away the tears before they fell at all. Jemima asked him if he'd bruise and he said he'd be fine, even if his voice cracked. Tantomile apologised and he insisted it was his fault and they needed to try again, just give him a second. Bombalurina grabbed his arm, and tugged him away to a corner, saying that they needed to talk. Misto felt his heart tremble. Of course, the one person vouching for him to even be in an all girls class was surely disappointed that he'd not only hurt himself and spent a week in recovery, but now failed a simple lift because he was afraid?

"Sorry, Bomba, I knew you were expecting better of me when you told Madam Lucy to give me a chance," he mumbled, keeping quiet so the others wouldn't hear. She sighed and raked a hand through her short puffy hair. "I just don't think I can-"

"Misto, if you had simply told us of your boundaries in the first lesson, we wouldn't have to worry about these things," she said softly. "Yes it was embarrassing, but everyone has things they won't or can't do. Jemima struggles with her flexibility, which is why she gets to opt out of certain things for different options. I can't stand anyone touching my hair or ankles, so no one does. If you don't want a certain area touched, then you have to tell us. Doesn't need to have a reason! God, I think I need to implement to gingerbread touch again."

"The... What?"

She gave him a grin and drew everyone in a circle. Clearing her throat, she detailed what she really meant by gingerbread touch. 

-*-*-

Misto sat at home, staring at his gingerbread man outline. Bombalurina had handed them out at the end of class after texting Munkustrap to print them out. Everyone had to decorate them in whatever way they wanted, and put where they could or could not be touched. The other girls tried not to look at him but he knew that they knew it was really for him. He'd put it in his bag, and tried to ignore it until he was sat at the table in the twins's kitchen.

He'd coloured it in, of course. He was too afraid of Bomba not to decorate it in some way. The Jazz groupchat was rife with discussions of how they were decorating theirs. Cassandra had used glitter over where she didn't like touch. Jemima had used disturbing amounts of highlighter to colour in, then black squares around places she wanted no one touching. Tantomile's man was painted, big red acrylic writing over her chest with the word 'NO'. Bomba had made hers with sequins; ribbon to mark it. And he...

Was still unsure.

He'd coloured it in, and the girls had reacted with the (in)appropriate amount of cooing over his colouring in. He wasn't an art student for a reason. But he didn't know how to recall mark off what he wanted too. He sighed again, and doodled a little top hat onto his miniature. Flicking through the magazine next to him, he came across a few pages of just fabric samples. He looked over each one, and the idea sparked grew.

"Uh Teazer, can I take the fabrics out of this magazine," he asked, Poking his head into the living room. Teazer waved a hand in approval, and he silently fist pumped.

He took the orange sparkly one first, and cut it into two stars. He placed them over his wrists. There, first one done. He took the red velvet next and cut a heart. That one he put over his throat. Black satin circles went over his ears. Finally, he cut out a shiny material that changed from blue to purple in the light and made a square with it. He hollowed it out and placed the shiny frame over his upper inner tights to his lower stomach. He wrote in blue pen 'please do not touch under any circumstances'.

There.

He sent it to the groupchat and was met with approval. They each had decided on a safe word for if, in any lesson, someone accidentally touched badly or did something that they could stop. Jemima had chosen 'Pikachu'. Cassandra had decided on 'Telephone'. Tantomile put forth 'Acrylic'. Bomba had said 'Sinkhole'. And Misto? He'd chosen 'Sorcerer'. As on the nose as it was, he knew he'd be able to say it should anything go wrong. Bombalurina messaged him privately as well.

BombsAway; nice. Now we actually know why you go all tense when we grab ur wrists, cause its a no no area.

MistyWisty; I can and will boil your teeth inside ur skull.

BombsAway; jokes on u mine are preboiled cause I'm so hot

Misto laughed at that and slipped the paper into his bag. Kicking it under the table, he went to his room. He lit his candles and took a deep breath. Tomorrow was mostly morning lessons, and they'd go to the police properly afterwards. Victoria would bring the whip. Misto would testify. Munkustrap would do the law. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer would probably steal someone's belt. Tugger would provide moral support. He was determined. Now that people wouldn't touch him in the wrong area as and Macavity was being brought to justice, he would heal so fast that within a year he'd be completely better!

Well, maybe more than one year.

But he'd be better. Misto took an hour or two to read his texts, trying out a few simple tricks he could easily get rid of if anyone burst in. God, he could imagine if he told people he could do actual magic. Though rare, it wasn't unheard of, but with it being a one in a billion chance, he wasn't risking being turned over to the government. A she that the only other magic user he knew was an abusive prick. Am abusive prick who'd go to prison. He could barely wait. 

With a grin he flicked off his lights and blew out his candles. He wanted a good night of rest. Despite it barely being eight thirty, he fell deep asleep, ready to face the next day strongly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ha ha ha this chapter exists I guess.
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> Fun fact; I'm a scorpio. Unfun fact; my parents want me to learn to drive.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THE FIRST WEEK WAS BECAUSE I WAS UPSET AT YOU ALL LIKE A LIL BITCH AND THE SECOND WEEK OF UPLOADS WAS MISSED CAUSE I WAS I'LL (not corona)

"Hello again!" The woman behind the desk chirped as he walked in. Victoria had dropped him off, and he'd insisted in doing this himself. He took a deep breath and pushed a package wrapped in brown paper and thick string across the desk to her. She inquiditively held it. "What are you here for today, darling?"

"It's on my situation with the restraining order," he mumbled.

"What's happened?" She asked, looking worried. Her frown wrinkled her nose. Misto took a deep breath and leaned in slightly closer. He hoped no one else could hear what he was about to say.

"Recently this was sent to my address, and I was given a threatening letter from the guy I have a restraining order against. Its something he used to... Abuse me with. I'd prefer if it was handled with discretion," he said lowly. She nodded seriously and put it next to her computer. After tapping at a few keys, she looked back up with a bright smile that was hiding some obvious concern. "What is it?"

"This does, in fact, call for an arrest and court date," she winced. "Do you have any free dates coming up in the next week or so?"

Misto wracked his brain. He'd need a day that not everyone had a lesson on, so he could bring a minimum of three people. He knew he'd need support. The idea of looking at Macavity was... Less than pleasant. Victoria was a definite yes, so probably a Saturday then. He knew the twins were free too, but Munkustrap had choir, so he was ruled out. Rum Tum Tugger was most likely free, so he'd have a close friend as well, if he wanted to come. This Saturday was a bit short notice, so next week was best. But if he waited too long, they may have a harder time making a court sentence. He also didn't want to be outside with tons of loyal henchmen coming after him for incarcerating their beloved boss. Mind made up, he cleared his throat and gave her a polite smile.

"Is this Saturday possible? I think it would be best," He declared, nervous. She tapped on the board and clicked at things hidden on her screen. She nodded slowly, and stood to take away the brown parcel. It ripped on a corner and a sliver of white flashed him mockingly as it was taken away. He ground his teeth. Once back, the lady gave him an envelope with extra information. "Thank you."

He turned to leave, eager to be out of the icy air conditioning and eager to be in the last dredged of sunlight. Leaves were changing fast outside, and Autumn was coming. He stepped out into the parking lot. His sister waved from the car and he tried to not sprint inside it. Climbing into the passenger seat, he showed her the envelope with a shaky grin. She hugged him awkwardly from the side.

"This is great, Misto! When is it?" She nosily said putting the gear in reverse and backing out. As they hit the road, he sighed dramatically and leaned back.

"This Saturday. You know he could get a minimum of six months jail time, right?" She nodded, slowing as they neared a red light. "Imagine that. He'd lose interest right? He'd realise I'm not worth any effort. And then I could maybe later be swept of my feet by some strong handsome man who'd have no issues with me being such a scaredy cat."

"Ew, keep your marital fantasies to yourself," she laughed, screwing up her nose. Misto gained a cheeky smile, and did what any sane sibling would; he went into horrifying detail.

"We'd meet at some nightclub when I felt safe to go out again, and he'd buy me a drink, sweet but not strong. We'd dance until I couldn't walk home, and he'd carry me, and we'd hug all night, but he'd respect my boundaries. We'd get coffee every Tuesday until one day it became a date on Wednesday," he simpered as she pretended to gag. "We'd be married in the next spring, of course, me in a black and white suit and him in whatever he pleases. Following this I'd adopt three cats with him and move to a rural village where we would do nothing but eat honey and drink tea until we died as beloved members of the community in our cute cottage we built ourselves."

"Thats weirdly specific," Victoria snorted. He gasped in fake defence and put a hand over his heart. "I think marriage for me is out for... A long time."

Misto knew then that she was talking about Plato. They were disgustingly in love, forever in a sort of honeymoon phase. They'd had a few arguments, but they'd settled them quickly and maturely. They had the perfect relationship really. Victoria rounded out Plato's dreaminess and rough and tumble, and he turned her cutting honesty to roundabout compliments. Misto wasn't jealous, per se, but watching them sometimes did make him feel a deep sense of longing. His only relationship was two years long. He hadn't really been alone romantically (well, if you could count it as love) for so long, he was having a bit of an adjustment period.

Victoria dropped him off at the twins' flat, and made him promise to text her if he needed anything. He made her promise to not cook in his kitchen whilst he was with the twins. A guilty look told him all he needed to know. He grinned as she drove off, watching the car fade into the distance. He let himself in, and climbed the stairs. Once in the apartment, he noticed how no one was home. There was a note on the fridge, written half in an elegant scrawl and half in a scribble. Mungojerrie had said that the two would be out for a few hours. Rumpleteazer had said until about nine pm. This was perfect.

He opened the fridge, pleased that he'd actually stocked it up. Switching on the rudimentary kitchen appliances, he began to do what he did best when he was alone and with nothing to do: he baked and cooked.

He made the dessert first. The cake was much easier without the balloon inside, and he left it in the fridge uniced. There was no need to decorate it drastically. Misto had made a simple soup starter, light but not too brothy. That was sealed and extra was put in the freezer for an easy meal at another point. He cleaned down the whole area, and started on his piece de resistance. The main course.

He took out a large piece of fish he'd gotten for cheap at the fishmongers. He checked for proper deboning, and began to slather it with a specially made marinade. It was a mix of honey, red chilli peppers and pepper with a dash of salt and lime. He massaged it in, and set the meat to the oven at a low heat. It'd cook slowly whilst he set on the vegetables. He settled on a simple medley of peas, beans, cauliflower, sautéed carrot and roasted potatoes. He seasoned each liberally, testing occasionally for any harsh contrasts in flavour profile. It was all delicious. He set a timer and put the potatoes in the oven. He'd do the other vegetables when the timer clicked. Until then, he had time to set the table.

Everything set up later, he sat alone, sipping at a glass of red wine. It wasn't his usual taste, but it felt appropriate. The click startled him yo and he quickly finished his meal. He plated everything meticulously, and set the plates on the heated oven to stay warm while he took the soup servings to the table. Setting everything down, he watched the clock tick slowly, slowly, slowly, to nine.

Two minutes later, he could hear the twins coming in, talking in low voices. They wandered into the kitchen, enticed by the scent. Upon seeing him at the table, and the bowls of soup, they tilted their heads in synchronisation. He smiled.

"What's all this, Misto?" Asked Rumpleteazer, taking a seat. He shrugged, and Mungojerrie looked unsure at the prospect of a meal in full.

"I don't know if I'll be able to eat all of this," Mungojerrie admitted.

"I know, that's why your portions are set aside in small side plates, just tastes of what I made. There's extra soup in the fridge and the main course is staying warmed on the oven," Misto said, assuring him that he'd be able to at least eat with them. Mungojerrie looked excited at the prospect of eating the delicious smelling items, and slung himself into a chair. "In actuality, I thought maybe it's best I said my thanks in the way I know best; housewifery."

They had a small laugh at that, but without further ado, they actually began to eat what he'd made. Misto watched them anxiously for their reactions, and watched as Rumpleteazer lit up. She eagerly scraped up more, finishing her bowl quickly. He smiled as she thanked him profusely, and kept am eye out as Mungojerrie hesitantly tried a spoon full. He ate it, and a strange look came over his face.

"Hey, Teazer, add this to the list," he said, starting to eat more, looking pleased as punch. Misto raised an eyebrow, and Jerrie gave him a wide grin. "I have a list of foods I can eat a full meal of, and I could definitely do it with this."

"Nice, and there's extra in the fridge so that you'll have something to be full on, for once," Rumpleteazer said, adding the word 'soop' to the list of coloured letters in the fridge. "Wait. Does soup have a 'u'?"

Misto nodded, and she cursed, fixing her mistake. Once they were all finished, Misto whisked away their bowls and set down their new plates. Mungojerrie, as promised, had only a few bites of fish, and one of every vegetable to try. He looked offended at the notion of something healthy touching his lips, but still put them in his mouth abd thoughtfully chewed. Misto, confident in his work, simply ate his whole plate, unfazed by the tastes he was accustomed to after cooking most of his life. Rumpleteazer cleared her plate, and leaned back, content with life.

"Why are you so good at everything," she groaned. Misto laughed and blushed.

"Not everything. I can't dress for shit, and Victoria got the looks and social skills. She was the upgrade child," he grinned. At their confused look, he explained. "They had her after they realised that I would have issues socialising. I hated being touched, and was scared of the other kids. So as I grew up, I did my best to impress them elsewhere. Unfortunately, as an albino, she was called a lot of names by the others, but she always had a large group of friends. She flourished in everything. But then... Some complications arose. They started calling me a devil child, and threw me out when I was sixteen. She refused to leave my side, and she was only fourteen. That when we were picked up by Macavity, who then went on to seduce me and then... Yeah. What about you two? Got a tragic backstory, or haven't we unlocked that yet? "

"We stole a lot, ran away from Foster care," Mungojerrie shrugged. "Labelled trouble kids. Between both of our ADHD diagnoses and my sensory issues, we weren't a popular pick. We ran off one day, and they didn't catch us."

"Met Old Dueteronomy, he really set us straight," cackled Rumpleteazer. "We tried to steal from him, and he just gave us a look of disappointment and we were done. Turned ourselves around, joined the uni, took a course we knew we would love. Not too tragic, but it wasn't the best."

They shared stories late into the night, until they were hungry again, and then ate cake and talked more. It was strange. Misto found this companionship was just what he liked about those two. They could make anyone feel a part of their raucous and rambunctious life. They pulled pranks with one hand and wrote of their innocence with the other. Before he knew it, it was one am and he was heading to his room. He didn't light his candles, tired as he was. He lay down and breathed deeply. They were definitely close friends now, and his mind moved then from 'Friends' to the place just below 'Family', and they were put in the subclass of 'Cherished Friends'. Smiling dopily at the actions of his brain and heart, he watched the ceiling darken until he wasn't aware of wakefulness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DESERVE HATRED FOR FORGETTING TWO WEEKS IN A ROW FEEL FREE TO DESPIS ME U KNOW WHAT MY TUMBLR IS COME HATE ME
> 
> Inerdmuch - tumblr
> 
> BTW that recipe for fish is fucking delicious don't @ me I know how to cook approximately 4 things and bake 2 things ok


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall it's me with another chapter. This one is a lil heavy, so please take care when reading, okay?

"Today's date is September twenty third," the Judge said. It was the same lady as before. She read out the charges and sent the accused a few dirty looks as she did. "May the prosecution identify the self for the court."

"Victoria Mistoffelees at your service," Victoria said, a smile of plastic on her face. "I am prosecuting Macavity for the endangerment of my brother and the breaking of a restraining order."

"And the defence?" She asked, glaring down at the languid and repulsive body of Macavity as his feet rested upon the desk.

"I'm Griddlebone," the lady said sweetly. She seemed kind enough, soft grey-ish hair. "I am acting for the defence, as these accusations are unjust."

The judge sent her a look. Griddlebone smiled and merely leaned in to whisper to Macavity. He growled a low answer, and she stiffened slightly, but kept smiling. Misto fiddled with his sleeves, vastly uncomfortable with being not ten meters away from the vile creature of his past. Victoria noticed this and stood in his line of sight, blocking out the other half of the room with her cream skirt. She looked nice today, hair drawn back in a low puff, wearing a black shirt and aforementioned skirt. A matching tie in an eldredge knot wound across her throat, with plain white heels that clicked delightfully when she walked. Misto was simply wearing an antithesis of sorts to her. Dark trousers, white shirt, dark bowtie, shined black shoes. He zoned out as the trial continued, disassociating from the room as they fought for him to win his case. He looked up again as they brought out their first witness.

Rumpleteazer was dressed as she usually was. White jeans with sewn on patches of orange and brown, and a jumper almost as ginger as her hair. She tossed her short haircut out of her face and began to recount the evening that Misto had told them about the letter. She left nothing out. Once she was finished, she gave Misto a wink. Hopping down from the podium, she left. The next witness was called in, and Mungojerrie entered, looking for all the world as if he wasn't in a court but simply out with friends. He gave the judge a charming smile and set to climb into the box, when Griddlebone spoke up. Munkustrap's testimony went smooth as silk. The judge looked convinced by his formal register and composed words, not to mention his explanation for the lack of a physical letter for evidence. He patted Misto on the shoulder as he left, and Tugger took the stage.

"Hello, I'm Rum Tum Tugger, and I'm here to be a witness in this case," he said. Though the words were awkward, they flowed suavely, and a few of the younger ladies in the jury blushed. "My account is much the same as the others. I came to the meeting point after receiving a text message from Victoria, and offered Quaxo a place to stay while he was shaken up. He declined and went with the twins. That's okay though, as our spare rooms are quite full at the moment."

"I see," murmured the judge, and the jury whispered and collected notes. "Anything else to add?"

"Well, only that I trust Quaxo with everything I have," Tugger said seriously. "He doesn't lie. He sometimes jokes around, but seeing him after he got that letter... I could never believe it was anything less than truth. I've never seen him so scared, and I never want to see him like that again. That's all."

As Tugger left, Misto reached out and squeezed his hand. Tugger gave him an odd smile, and kept walking. The door closed behind him with finality. Clearing her throat, the judge leaned forward.

"Can the prosecution please state their case, and once finished, please answer any and all questions. Begin," she slammed down the gavel, and Victoria cleared her throat. She was under pressure now. This wasn't some lackey she was going against, but a full time lawyer, and she needed to scrounge up any knowledge she remembered from only thirteen hours of study into law.

"As the court knows, my brother recently issued a restraining order against Macavity. We know that this order has been ignored as Macavity has contacted my brother, and directly sent a threatening object to our place of residence. It can be seen in this image here," calmly, she pulled up and image of the whip onto the projector. The court muttered, and more than a few dirty looks were sent Macavity's way. He didn't seem to care. Victoria placed a box on the desk in front of the judge, and snapped on rubber gloves to pull out the whip. It was glossy in the artificial lighting. "This whip was used on my brother in a number of degrading, cruel and unforgiveable ways. He was never hit hard enough to scar, but he still has residual terrors for anything resembling it to the point of breakdowns. He wakes sometimes in the night to cry out. The fact that it was sent to him by Macavity is just another level of sick cruelty."

Misto breathed heavily in his chair. He tried the grounding method that Bombalurina had taught him but it didn't work very well. He couldn't stop looking at the whip. He couldn't stop himself from speaking up.

"Viccy, put it away now," he said in a breathless voice. He winced at the harsh grating sound of it. "Please."

It was put away immediately, and Victoria moved back beside him. She peeled off the gloves and continued to the other points of evidence. Namely, the letter.

"This is a clear letter of threatening," she said, and the court imploded into whispers. She read it out loud while squeezing her brother's hand tightly. "Handwriting analysts confirmed it as Macavity. When Quaxo received the letter, he panicked at took a photograph of it, and as my third witness said, in a state of anxiety fueled chaos, he ripped it up completely and threw it away."

Victoria concluded her case there, and stepped back, thanking them all for listening to her. The court nodded and agreed quietly, before the Judge brought down her gavel for order. She asked the defence to present their case, and it was clear that there was a conflict of morals between the two.

"The evidence is... Strong," Lady Griddlebone admitted, looking haughtily at the man who could only just afford her. "But the lack of physicality of the letter is highly suspicious. Are we supposed to believe he took a picture and then ripped it up? Sounds awfully sketchy."

The jury began to whisper again, until the gavel knocked down.

"The whip is another mystery. How are we meant to agree with the fact that it was Macavity's, when for all we know its just some pleasure toy he's trying to hide," Griddlebone continued maliciously.

"Any counterpoints, Prosecution?" The Judge frowned heavily. Victoria was going Red with rage, colour showing up strong on her pale skin.

"I'd ask you to open your eyes, Ma'am, and tell you to look at my brother," she hissed. "Tell me, does he look like he is even capable of the idea of joking around with his trauma? In fact, why don't you take a step closer and ask him yourself. Maybe you could look into the eyes of my brother and tell him he got something that makes him physically and mentally break down to get what? Macavity in prison? If Macavity already had a restraining order against him, Misto felt safe, so why bother trying to send him to prison?"

"I shall then," she said nastily. She stalked in front of Misto and leaned far too close to him. He leaned to get away from her, extremely close to a panic attack. "Why did you but that whip? Hm?"

"Leave me alone," was the first thing he replied. He crumbled into sobs, and scraped his chair back to get out from under her looming presence. "It's been tested and it has his DNA, leave me alone! I just want to get out of this room with him, can't you see I'm terrified?"

Griddlebone nodded slowly, and sauntered back over to Macavity. Then she did the unthinkable and flipped him a special kind of bird. The room gasped.

"You'll have a refund sent to you," she said blithely. "Rot in hell, bastard. I'm not defending an abuser, I've had enough of that in my life. Hey Judge! He's guilty! He told me so himself! See you all later, I'm getting a bagel. Quaxo dear, a hanky for your tears. Ta ta!"

She sashayed out, and Misto wiped at his face with the hanky. It was a deep emerald, like her suit had been, and smelled like pine-smoke and honey. He held it to hide his trembling hands and forced his sobbing under control. The judge stared at the exit, and closed her gaping mouth. She called for a recess so that the jury could get together a desicion for the charges.

Misto and Victoria walked out first. The first thing Misto did was hide his teary eyes by diving into the snack bag they'd bought along for something to eat and drink. He resurfaced with a box of orange juice and a tub of grapes. The high life, really. He listened to everyone talking about what was going to happen and distracted himself by fiddling with the straw on his carton. It took him several moments to realise he was actually being addressed by Tugger.

"No matter what happens, we are all here for you," He grinned. "Especially me. I mean, the rest of this group is great, but let's be honest, my support counts for like... Two thirds."

"I'm pretty sure that's a spot reserved for Vic," Misto said blandly. "You're next though, only because you would put up a fuss if you weren't."

Tugger fist pumped the air. He seemed content with second place for once. The air was clearer now, and even if he didn't talk as much as he ate his grapes, he felt a lot better just being being near his group of friends. Eventually though, he did have to go back into the just too cold room for the final verdict.

The twelve people that made up the jury looked down on him, and Misto felt awkward as he sat down again. Victoria gleamed like a star, a Beacon in the room, and he focused on her. He was proud of her. Managing to help him in not one, but two court cases. She truly was an enigma.

"We, the court, have decided to sentence Macavity to a sentence in Prison for the time of three years and a fine for psychological damages to Quaxo Mistoffelees of five hundred pounds. Court dismissed, Macavity please report to the foyer for detainment calmly." She hadn't even finished what she was saying before Macavity leaped over to Misto and pinned him to the floor. It was a rough tumble down, the thud of his skull on the wooden floor ringing around in a dead tone. There were shouts, but only too late as a knee was pressed into his back and his arms wrenched up behind him until his shoulders were creaking in protest. 

"Don't think your puny magics will do you any good," he spat in Misto's ear. "Upon my release, you may run, but hiding is not an option. Give me a good chase, dear."

Misto started to scream as Macavity pressed heavily onto him, and scrambled away as he was ripped off and restrained by police responders. Misto burst out through the doors then, only stopping his escape when he was out in the car park. He inhaled quickly and sharply, feeling the long nails still pressing into his arms. Dimly he noticed his arms had a few drops of blood on them. He was soon followed out by his friends, who saw him standing in the middle of the driving path or the car park. They sprinted over, and he shook his head clear.

"He jumped me," he croaked out. He felt ashamed now. Embarrassment told him to keep speaking through his tears. "So I ran. Sorry about that. Plus side; he's going away for three years and I'll have an extra five hundred to spend on paying for school, so there's a good thing."

"That's so metal," Rumpleteazer said. "The uh, running part, not the part where he jumped you. Just bursting out was so cool."

"Yeah, you were like 'BaWoosh!' and the door was like 'BlamCrash!' and then we all ran out to see you staring into the distance like some badass shounen character," Mungojerrie agreed. Misto laughed, slowly wiping off his tears, and Victoria finally ran over to crash him into a hug.

"We're free!" She cackled manically. Misto grinned, picked her up and threw her in the air.

"We're fucking free!" He shouted, garnering some weird looks from people passing by. He caught his sister and found that, among his friends, he didn't care what they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If every reader donated 50p to my gofundme, I could get my fursuit.... Jk jk.... Unless?
> 
> gf.me/u/x3bdhx
> 
> Honestly if ur against Furries and reading a cats fanfic tho I really gotta ask you if you are aware of the irony. 
> 
> If u don't want to donate that's chill. I'm also looking to sell my Mr mistoffelees (quaxo style) cosplay. It includes the unitard, leg and arm warmers, tail and even a wig. However, the wig is absolutely hideous as I made it myself and I now know to stick to writing. If you want it you can have it, but be warned, it is terrifying. You can ask about it at my email or tumblr
> 
> Email - chloevanwyk06@gmail.com  
> Tumblr - inerdmuch


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Chapters will be more sporadic now. I'm coming up to big moments, I might be going back to school, and ive got a 210k commission to work with.

"Misto, we bought like half the amount of clothes you got rid of, and yet there's still somehow more for you to take home?" Rumpleteazer said in exasperation. Misto grinned and shrugged, putting away the trinkets he'd brought over. He'd scraped the wax off the desk after apologising repeatedly to the twins, who really didn't care. "Jeeze. We'll miss having ya around, you know."

"Yeah, you actually make stuff I can eat!" Mungojerrie called from the hall. "Very few people can do that!"

Misto blushed and stammered out his thanks, glancing over the empty room. His chest felt empty too. He'd only stayed with them for about a week but they had made him feel so welcome. He quietly pressed his hand against the wall and placed a self sustaining barrier over their apartment. It wouldn't last forever, but at least two years of extra protection from the outside. With the sound of their neighbours every three am, they needed it. Misto picked up the bag with all his clothes in and his trinket. He needed to put this on one of the bikes. They'd go to uni, transfer everything to the boot of the car, and then he'd go home with Demeter and Victoria. When had he started thinking of the place as 'home'?

He left the apartment for the final time then. He sat behind Mungojerrie, and held into his waist as they drove at a leisurely pace through the streets. His earphones blasted some halloween punk song, something he was hoping to be chosen for the next hip-hop jazz fusion dance to be to. He was so deep in thought of choreography he barely noticed as they parked. It was only when Mungojerrie actually got off the bike that he'd realised they had stopped. He hopped off and gathered his daily items. Demeter was waiting for him, holding hands with Bombalurina and generally being a lesbian icon.

She popped the boot open as he approached, and hugged him. Bombs just slapped him on the back with a smirk.

"Maybe, in a few months, we'll finally meet you properly," she said lowly. Misto knew what she meant and wasn't offended. She knew that he wouldn't be this quiet and twitchy without the abusive influence of Macavity. "Anyway, what song do you think we are gonna do?"

"From the list posted, probably the Coldplay one," he grimaced. It wasn't that he hated the song... But he despised the song. He said his goodbyes to the twins, who were starting up an argument about who was older. Factually, it was Rumpleteazer, but Mungojerrie argued that it was him because he was named first, and touched air first. Cesarean sections; truly a difficult matter. 

The walk to the lesson was relatively quiet, until they bumped into a certain professor of culinary arts. Bustopher Jones, a rotund man of profound wisdom and generally adored by any and all students. He often passed out snacks to his students and rumours speculated that he was actually a world renowned food taster for a prestigious magazine. Well: he had been before he took up teaching. Bustopher peered down at Misto for a few seconds, eyes twinkling.

"Do you currently have a lesson, young man?" He asked, his voice sounding plum-full. Misto glanced at Bomba, but she just shrugged and didn't help.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Misto said. Bustopher stroked his chin for a moment. He handed Misto a scrap of paper. It had a number on it, and a little doodle of an apple

"Feel free to come to my classroom, Quaxo. I believe we may be closer than you thought. Bring your sister, as well, and a few friends if you feel safer," he said, knowingly nodding his head. "I've also been informed of your cooking, by a certain set of rascals, so at least please come so we may talk theory."

Misto nodded, and Bustopher left, dawdling down the corridor and whistling some old tune. He looked at Bomba, who looked equally mistified on the situation. He stuffed the note in his bag and they carried on in to class. He had other things to focus on right now.

-*-*-

Misto gritted his teeth and threw Bomba again. She landed safely in Cassandra's arms, and slid down. They'd been practicing this move for nearly an hour now, and his arms were aching. They'd got the opening section down easily, but they had a part in which they were throwing Bomba between them. It was obvious that the girls were all tired too, but Madam Lucy was especially harsh today. Usually she was very laid back.

"Again, and this time, switch positions," she said. "Misto, you'll be the one being thrown." All eyes glanced to the diagrams pinned to the wall with blue tack. Misto watched their eyes scan his drawing for any places they'd have trouble with. Bomba took his place, and gave him a wry grin. Everyone had been thrown except him by now.

He lined up to the start mark, and the music started up again. It hadn't been the song he was hoping for, but at least it wasn't the Coldplay one. Roxanne by Arizona Zervas was a good song, but he'd been listening to the same part for nearly three hours now. He waited until the moment he knew to begin. Three. Two. One. GO.

He threw himself into a cartwheel, and came upright to face Jemima, who grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up, spinning them both round as he kicked out is legs. He was dropped down, and rolled to the left, standing elegantly with Tantomile. They spun around each other (Misto was hidden for a moment behind her tall frame) until they came to face opposite directions. A simple lean later, Misto was pushed to Bombaluriana, who caught him after the simple run and leap, and then she hefted him above her head and gently tossed him to Cassandra. She caught him easily and lowered him to the ground, where he went into a split.

Madam Lucy cut the music and made a few notes at this. The lesson would end in ten minutes, so she waved them off to do cool down stretches. There was a tangible sense of relief at that. Misto eagerly set to stretching where he was, massaging his muscles to loosen them. As he worked down his legs, he made a few sighs of appreciation. Bomba simply sent a text to Demeter. Misto rolled his eyes; of course she'd get her girlfriend to help her. He cracked his back and stood up, grabbing his clothes to go get changed. He joked around with everyone over their teacher's bad mood until they were separated by changing room. He quickly donned his normal clothes and threw the rest into his bag. His phone pinged with a text, and he groaned as he remembered his meeting with Bustopher Jones.

He sauntered out. He needed to meet Victoria before they went over. They'd also recruited Tugger, Plato and Alonzo to come with them. Misto strolled to the canteen, where they'd allocated a meeting spot. He yawned. That lesson had been demanding, even for his usual extremes and excersises. He wanted a coffee before they went.

He slumped onto the table where their group was hanging out. He nursed his coffee. Clearly he hadn't cooled down his thighs properly, as they were stiff. Victoria, sensing his impending grumpiness, threw herself to his side, tossing an arm around his shoulders and shoving her phone under his nose. Misto blinked in surprise and perked up, reading the article.

"You never told me that you'd be dressed like that for the painting," she cackled, screenshot ting the article. The paintings had been, of course, uploaded to the school website, and then had gained traction from people wondering who the model was. He needed to thank Tugger for portraying him as so... Well, hot. "Half the comments are wondering if you're single!"

He snorted, and scrolled. It made him feel quite good to see so many people debating whether or not he was single. He kept reading through comments as they all trekked to Bustopher's classroom. Tugger peered over his shoulder, also reading as he went down to the end. Tugger chuckled quietly at a few, and made noises of disgust at ones critiquing either the work or the model. He tsked at one particularly rude comment on the one with blue glitter.

Misto handed his phone back to his sister as they all stood awkwardly outside the door. A lesson had just finished by the scents eminating from the door. It was familiar in a way that made Victoria and Misto stop to look at each other. Students began to file out. Slowly they all entered, Alonzo first. Once they were all inside, the door closed slowly. It clicked shut, and Bustopher surfaced from a side room. He held a large tray of familiar meat buns still hot from the oven and placed them on the side. He removed his apron and Misto noted that they wore a similar colour scheme; black and white everywhere. They all stood and stared silently for a few moments. Plato coughed.

"Well, I didn't make them for you to stare," Bustopher chortled. They each took one with varying levels of enthusiasm. Plato and Alonzo, often dubbed the 'share one braincell' duo, immediately began to eat them. They both began to pant after burning their mouths, then continued to eat the buns as if expecting something different to happen. Victoria held hers loosely, and Misto nibbled a hole through the dough to let out hot air. Tugger ate his whole, chewing twice before swallowing, unbothered by the heat. "Good. Now, Mistoffelees siblings, I'm sure you don't remember much before your parents moved you up north. Much less the fact that you had an uncle, who only briefly saw you as toddlers before you were whisked away. Correct?"

"Sorry, what are you implying?" Victoria said, looking suspicious. Bustopher scratched his head.

"It should be obvious, my niece," he said simply. "I'm your uncle, on your mother's side. I heard she had kicked you out several years ago and was devastated. I would have offered you a home, if only I could have contacted you! And now you're here, in a twist of the fates, and I knew we had to reconnect."

"Uh... Huh." Misto took a bite of his bun. It was the exact recipe his mother used. The taste was phenomenal but the memories were bittersweet. He swallowed it and looked Bustopher Jones up and down slowly. "Uh huh. Any proof of this, Sir?"

"Well of course, here's the letters we used to send, and a family portrait is in my desk," Bustopher said, not at all taken aback. "We also send emails occasionally, but I've taken to talking less frequently. I believe they've become a little, well, fanatical in their beliefs?"

Misto shrugged in agreement. The letters checked out, and he could still smell his mother's perfume on the paper. His eyes for once remained dry. He didn't cry over that rejection anymore. Victoria, on the other hand, looked a lot more emotional.

"She never mentioned you," she said, stiffly holding back tears. The other three were looking uncomfortable being privy to this conversation. Plato took another meatbun whilst they were talking. "She told us we were all she had left. I mean, until she went to that church and started believing so strongly..."

Misto drew her in for a hug. It was strange to think that this portly man was their uncle; they barely knew him at all. But he was, quite clearly, and they actually had family who cared for them. He looked like their mother, with his dark skin, slightly upturned nose and close coiled hair to his head. It had a slight wave to it, and generally he looked like he took great pride in his appearance. Misto was actually happy that he was doing well. He was certainly eating well.

"Well. What now?" He asked, unsure of himself. Victoria had started playing with her hair, also unsure. Yay, great, they had an uncle! But... What was the procedure for the aftermath of finding this out? "Do you want an invite to birthdays, or like, want us to do something...?"

"Oh no! Nothing of the sort," Bustopher brushed off, resting his hands on his stomach. "I just thought you ought to know. Also, that does mean you are invited to my big Christmas party I put on each year, though it is three months off. You'll get the invite."

Misto nodded, and loosened up. This university was full of surprises; gangs, lost family members, (chavvy) goetic demons hidden in walls, close knit friends he'd known for only a few months but felt like forever. He smiled as everyone began to talk then, atmosphere becoming warm and open. Questions flew about, and between talking of family recipes were swapped, and he found himself getting excited at the prospect of having another layer to his family. Before they left, two hours later, Bustopher Jones passed them each a present wrapped in silver and gold paper. There was a wax seal on each of deep red with swirls of ivory. Inside each was a ring. Victoria's was made of white silver and inlaid with precious blue stones. Mist's was deep stygian black, inlaid with white stones that caught the light in multitudes of rainbows.

Victoria put hers on immediately, enamoured with the shine. Misto put his hand out and placed the ring on. He took it off, and instead put it on a thin chain from his bag. Much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to disappoint you all as I upload less, but if you want a chat or a commission, come to my Tumblr.
> 
> I'm also selling a Mr mistoffelees cosplay that I desperately need to get rid of. It comes with the unitard and arm/leg warmers, so please come to me I'd you'd like to talk prices. Free shipping worldwide.

**Author's Note:**

> So please don't hate me. But comment, I guess, I'd like opinions. I'll keep posting if you keep commenting, even if it is just a keysmash or angry face lol.


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